


In the name of the King

by GreyWayfarer



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Sex, Breathplay, Collars, Complicated Relationships, Dom/sub Undertones, Dubious Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, Fantasy, Frottage, Half-Sibling Incest, Hand Jobs, Jealousy, M/M, Magical Realism, Manipulation, Marking, Political Intrigue, Politics, Possessive Behavior, Power Dynamics, Rape/Non-con Elements, Ritual Drugged Sex, Royalty, Size Difference, Slavery, Smut, Soul Bond, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:27:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 45,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27195118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyWayfarer/pseuds/GreyWayfarer
Summary: The King is dead and now the fight for succession has begun. Only one Prince can claim the throne and he must kill his brothers in order to do so.Leander, the weakest of the four brother Princes and one who has no wish to claim the throne for himself, flees for his life. But there is one brother who has no intention of killing him or letting him go without a fight. Soon a lifelong obsession is revealed and it will consume them both.
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character, Younger half-brother Prince/Older half-brother Prince
Comments: 379
Kudos: 988





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This is probably the most taboo thing I have written in my life so please, for the love of God, heed the warning tags of this story.
> 
> Otherwise, I hope you enjoy.

“Prince Leander, wake up. We have to go.”

Leander woke abruptly at the voice; skin prickling with cool sweat. There was a moment of disorientation, mind sluggish with the vestiges of sleep, before he realised there was a hulking figure above him in the darkness, hand clamped on his shoulder.

Leander’s muscles tensed in shock, mouth open to call out to alert a guard, but the hand on the shoulder let go and clamped over his mouth, fingers digging into his flesh tight enough to leave red prints in their wake. His eyes began to adjust to the half light of early morning, and he could make out the stern scarred face belonging to Torin, Captain of his personal guard. 

Once Torin had Leander’s attention, the hand fell away long enough for Leander to gasp, “Torin, what are you doing? What’s going on?”

Torin moved away from the bed, allowing Leander to sit up and reach out to the oil lamp on his bedside table. A muted yellow light illuminated his chambers and allowed Leander to see Torin cross the room to the ornate wardrobes on the opposite side of the room and began rifling through the items inside. He picked out a long hooded deep green travelling cloak, dark brown breeches and a thick cotton lace-up tunic.

“Hurry now and change,” the older man said gruffly. “We need to leave the city before the bells ring around the city.” He returned to the bed and chucked the clothes at him. 

Leander managed to catch them before they hit his face and slipped out from under the silk sheets. Pulling the tunic over his head, he asked, “The bells? I don’t understand-”

Torin paused, eyes flicking to Leander before skittering away. “Your Lord father, the King, has passed away. The fight for succession begins now.”

Torin's words hit Leander like a physical blow. Like a knife between the ribs, a puncture to the lungs. He wanted to flinch away from it, to let go of his magic and destroy everything around him, revolt against it all.

But he didn't. He clamped down on his emotions. Hard. He tasted blood, metallic and bitter in his mouth with the effort of keeping the magic behind carefully constructed walls of iron will and restraint. "When?" Leander choked, his voice rough like sandpaper in his throat.

For the first time since Leander woke, Torin’s face softened in the face of the Prince’s obvious distress. “No more than an hour ago. A trusted servant of the inner castle informed me that he passed away in his sleep.” He picked up the forgotten breeches and held them out for Leander to take and put on.

Leander took them with numb fingers, fumbling with the material. “The physician said he was getting better, that he was showing signs of improvement.”

Torin shrugged stiffly. “The ill often do, Prince, right before the end. But the Gods have seen fit to take him this night and that means we need to leave. Right now.”

Leander stood up from the bed and pulled the breeches over his naked legs with short jerky movements. “And my brothers? What of- What of-” Kaldir. 

He couldn’t bring himself to say the name of his oldest half brother. Before he closed his eyes that night to sleep, they had spent the evening in the library of the castle, Kaldir reading to him from a book of old folk tales, Leander’s head pillowed in his lap as he listened. The right of succession was nothing more than a dark thought, to be dealt with in later years. Despite their father’s continued illness, it was just an unpleasant dream that slipped away the more he had thought on it. Intangible. Unreal.

But now, mere hours since their parting for their own chambers, their father’s passing would herald the breaking of familial bonds. Everything that had happened before was now utterly meaningless. The killing was about to begin.

“No doubt your brother’s own servants will have informed them by now,” Torin replied. “Please, my Prince. We must get you to safety. Your life is in danger if we stay here any longer.”

“I- Of course,” Leander mumbled, grabbing for his cloak and throwing it around his shoulders, all the while seeking out his riding boots that he had abandoned the night before in a heap on the floor. 

His eyes were soon drawn to the open doorway of his chambers, torchlight casting long flickering shadows on the guard posted at his doorway. He was in the golden armour of the House of Tye, his mother’s family House, the ash tree crest emblazoned on the chest plate as a point of pride. The guard stood facing the hallway, his sword drawn and watching intently, listening out for any sound of anyone that would do them harm.

No guardsman was allowed to draw their sword in the castle unless under attack. It was the sight of the wicked blade in the guard’s hand that had Leander’s heart hammering in his chest with the onset of fear. 

When Leander had located his boots and slid them on clumsily without lacing them up, Torin urged him on, “We have to go now, Prince,” and Leander could only nod his head. His ability to speak had left him. 

He followed the bigger man out of his chambers and they were then joined by the guard at the door. Torin led the way and the guard brought up the rear with Leander in the middle. They went on silent feet, along the torch lit corridor and down the stone steps towards the courtyard of the great castle. 

They met no one on their descent. No servants hurried about their duties, no other guards were seen along their route to mark their passing and Leander shivered at the unnatural quiet of the place. The stillness was alien to him, it held anticipation, like a deep breath before the plunge. It waited for something. There had always been noise in the castle, people moving around at all hours of the night. It appeared that the news of the King’s death had spread faster than they had thought and now they were all in hiding. 

Hiding until royal blood was spilled on the flagstone and it was safe to come out and join the revelry of a new King.

The stairs down finally ended and they were out into the open courtyard. Torin paused in the gateway, eyes darting about and forward to check if the coast was clear, before herding Leander across the cobblestones to where the five others of Leander’s guard were already waiting on saddled horses. 

Torin held out the reins of a riderless horse for Leander to take. As he took it in his hands, the ringing clang of the tower bell rang out for the first time. The sound was low, sonorous, and it raised the hairs on the back of Leander’s neck. 

The Priests of the Sun temple will ring it in the name of their King for the rest of the day, helping his spirit pass on to the next life that awaited him.

Leander didn’t mourn the man. King Niam had been distant since Leander had been born, as most Kings often were with their own offspring, and he took great enjoyment in pitting Leander and his three older brother’s against each other. It built character, he would say to anyone that would listen to him on the subject. It sorted the strong from the weak. 

No, there would be no mourning for his father, not now, not ever. His death only meant the end of Leander’s life. His whole world.

If he stood any chance of surviving the fight of succession between his brothers, it was by fleeing and never looking back. He didn’t want the crown, he didn’t want the title of King, he didn’t want to sit on the throne and deal with everything that came with the responsibility. So fleeing for his life from it all was not a hardship on his part.

Leander gripped the reins in trembling hands and mounted the horse, Torin and the guard quickly doing the same. They all formed a protective circle around him on silent command from Torin, swords drawn with a ringing hiss, like they were expecting to fight their way out of the gates and beyond.

When Leander mentioned this to Torin, his square jaw remained firm and resolute, urging his horse forward. “I won’t take any chances with your life, Prince. Stay close to me and stay low in your saddle.”

The group moved as one into a light trot, the sounds of their horse’s hooves striking the cobblestones made silent by the ringing of the bells. Leander’s panicked breath misted in the chilled January air, the cold pricking like needles against the exposed skin of his cheeks and the knuckles of his hands, turning them bright pink with cold. In the rush of getting away, he had not thought to bring gloves with him - 

Or anything, really. He had left everything behind, all of his books, his scrolls, his trinkets, his name. 

“Halt there!”

The authoritative voice rose above the bells and Leander couldn’t help but turn in his saddle and to look back over his shoulder.

At the doorway that they had exited, stood the tall figure of Kaldir’s Captain of his guard, the unmistakable long silver hair tied back at the nape of his neck, his black armour that swallowed up all colour around it, Kaldir’s House crest of a firebird etched into his breastplate in bright silver. 

His rapier was drawn at his side and Leander felt sick when he saw the blade was wet with the unmistakable dark red of blood. 

Torin cursed colourfully and spurred his horse on faster by digging the heel of his boots into its sides, the rest following suit, Leanders’s horse responding without any prompting from his own boots. 

“You will go no further!” The Captain yelled.

“Like hell we won’t!” Torin growled and they did not stop, not when they thundered out of the courtyard and across the bridge towards the castle gates. The drawbridge had not been raised and the gatekeepers stood frozen in place as they watched the procession coming straight for them at top speed. 

The Captain called out again, this time to urge the gatekeepers into motion. “In the name of Prince Kaldir, stop them!”

“In the name of Prince Leander, let us pass!” Torin roared back.

While Torin was incredibly impressive in his rage when he put his mind to it, it was more to do with the fact of large beasts speeding towards them that made the gatekeepers dive out of the way. Leander’s guard made rallying cries as they passed over the drawbridge and out the castle grounds towards the promise of safety.

Away from danger and death.

Away from the only home Leander knew.

Away from Kaldir.

* * *

The Kingdom of Nasria had, since its founding fathers over a thousand years ago, always had the tradition of violent succession to crown the King. It was put in place to ensure it would wittle out any weakness in the blood, that the right successor ascended the throne and led the Kingdom to a prosperous future of glory and renown. There was no room for weakness. Not in the royal court. Not in Nasria.

And when that King was crowned, he would take the very best of the women from the wealthy Houses that made up his court into his harem to father as many male children as he could. These women would all be beautiful, virtuous, and educated, of course. They carried the strongest of magics their Houses often boasted, from divination, rune scribing and empathy, to mind manipulation, telekinesis, and elemental manipulation. 

Exquisite breeding stock that the Kingdom had to offer.

Those women who were lucky enough to be chosen had to prove themselves worthy by giving birth to healthy male babies and those babies had to survive childhood ailments, disease and the rigorous royal life into adulthood. The women who were unable to get pregnant, or miscarried, or conceive only female babies, were cast out to the shame of their families. 

If they were able to complete their royal duty, the nursing and the threat of infanticide had passed, the mothers were seperated from their sons and the process would start all over again.

These sons were then subjected to what it meant to be a Prince of Nasria, to be schooled in what it would take to be the King. They were half brothers, they shared their father’s blood, but none of the familial bonds that came with it. Brother was pitted against brother, distrust of each other coloured their every interaction, friendly competition turned to games with deadly intent. 

And when it came to the King’s death, the sons would fight each other to the very last, ensuring the most worthy would ascend to the throne. There would be no opting out of the race, no capitulation. The Kingdom must remain united under one House banner, as it had always been done throughout the generations that came before. 

In King Niam’s harem, it was Lyria of House Belford that gave Niam his first son, Kaldir. Kaldir, the oldest and the strongest of his sons, had always been Niam’s favourite. He was tall and broad like the King, but took his olive complexion and the dark hair and eyes from his mother. The House of Belford were renowned for their telekinesis and Kaldir was one of the strongest generations to be born to date. 

When Leander was eight summers old, he had watched Kaldir take a castle knight apart with his magic from twenty feet away, the man’s screams rent the air and an unwanted constant companion in Leander’s dreams for weeks after. Kaldir had been twelve at the time. 

A year after Kaldir’s birth, he was followed by the twins Atherton and Ennis to Yenna of House Cretus. They shared the blonde colouring of Niam and light changeable eyes, much like their personalities. Atherton, who enjoyed torturing the servants with his cruel sense of humour and his overinflated ego, and Ennis the Cunning, who excelled at the word games and the backstabbing of court politics. Their magic was elemental based, Atherton’s affinity with fire and Ennis’ affinity was air. When they fought together, they could combine their powers and make a fire cyclone that caused utter devastation in their wake. 

Then came Leander, born of Danya, House of Tye. He was the youngest of the brothers by three years, and the most insignificant. Leander was as pale as his North born mother, and while he was blonde like his father, the blonde was so light, it almost appeared white. He kept it long in the style of the North, which caused Atherton to wrap it around his fist and yank on it when they were children. 

With Niam’s passing, Leander had only just reached his majority, not a fully grown man like the rest of his brothers, and he certainly didn’t have the experience in fighting that they had. 

He had no skill with either sword or axe or spear, only a middling proficiency with the short bow. His magic was more of a defensive nature, leaning to the runic and divining slant, rather than the offensive talents of his brothers. Which, to Leander, was a good thing as he found fighting in any capacity abohrent. 

It was made worse when Leander contracted the burning sickness when he was twelve summers old and, against all odds, he had survived. But it had some repercussions, it had stunted his growth, making him small in stature, thin and delicate. Feminine, some of the King’s court would often remark with a mocking curl to their lips. Niam’s youngest son is weak, sickly, he won’t last a day during the succession.

They were right, of course. There was no way he could hold his own against his brothers and everyone knew it. His father knew it more than most, which was why he had no time for him. Atherton and Ennis knew it too, which was why they played endless jokes on him, cruel jokes, but otherwise left him alone. He posed no threat to them, so why waste their energy on him? 

Leander’s mother knew it, which was why she had chosen his guards from her own people of the North and they had sworn a blood oath to spirit him away from the castle when the time came. A small hope for his survival, a last kindness to a son she was never allowed to be a mother to, to get to know as his own person. 

And what was Leander to Kaldir? What did he know? 

Even now, with all the time they had spent together, Leander had no idea what Kaldir thought about him. He was an incredibly private person, he kept his thoughts and his counsel to himself, a blanket of cold wrapped around him so that no one could possibly get close. Logic and reason dictated that Kaldir must have known Leander didn’t stand a chance, that attaching himself to someone who would ultimately die, was foolish. But he had reached out to him anyway. As Leander had grown up, it was Kaldir who had shown him some semblance of kindness, of friendship. They had spent time with each other outside of their studies, and while the numerous masters, teachers and minders were vocal in their disapproval of what they did, it didn’t stop them from becoming - something- to each other. 

It had been more of a wrench than he had previously thought it would be to leave Kaldir without saying goodbye. But deep down, Leander knew that saying goodbye could have gotten him killed. Just because Kaldir had been a friend to him didn’t mean he would hesitate in killing him now. And Leander didn't want to picture those eyes harden against him when he reached for his sword to strike Leander down. 

He couldn’t bear to see that kindness give way to hate.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who took the time to comment, kudos, bookmark and subscribe to this story! I really appreciate it and hope the second chapter doesn't disappoint.

After an hour into riding, they had left the capital city behind them and the scenery gave way to the rolling hills of the countryside with sparse villages that had cropped up along the major road. Torin soon led them off the path to follow a farmer’s hedgerow to the left. Leander didn’t question where they were going as Torin had been with him since he was a child. He trusted him with his life. 

The hedgerow rose with the hill until they came to an outcropping of twisted old trees, naked of their green leaves. Torin gave the order to halt as he slid from his horse to the ground in a practiced movement. He disappeared into the thicket and kneeled down next to the biggest trunk that looked like it had been hollowed out by a strike of lightning, the inside scorched black and the trunk split down the side. He reached in and dragged out a worn saddlebag that bulged in several places. 

Leander looked on as he rooted around in the bag, checking its contents. Torin and the rest of his personal guard had no magick to speak of, as all of the royal guards were not allowed to practice it, but they were what the Kingdom called Nulls. Everyone, even the common people, had a potential for magick in their blood. But Nulls didn’t, they were the complete absence of it. So much so, that if anyone tried to use magick against them, their bodies absorbed it with no ill effects. They made the most effective bodyguards for members of a Royal family that died in the most vicious of ways. 

When Torin was satisfied with what he had found, he came back to his horse. Leander made an enquiring sound and Torin answered Leander’s silent question. “Money and provisions, Prince, from your mother. We’re going to need every coin to get you out of the Kingdom.” 

It was stupid, but Leander hadn’t even thought of the necessity of money. Or of where exactly they were supposed to go when the running was over. His mind had been completely occupied with everything they had left.

“Where do we go now?” He asked out loud. 

Torin tied the saddlebag to his horse and mounted it with ease. “To the coast, where we’ll take a ship across the sea to Valkor. Valkor and Nasria have never been friends, so they won’t help your brothers look for you within their borders.”

“Valkor,” Leander said, surprised. “Not to the North to see my mother?”

Torin didn’t look at him. “No, Prince. It would be the first place your brothers would look for you. The House of Tye must see to its own preservation in the days to come. If they harboured you now, it would be to their own destruction.”

Leander swallowed thickly and nodded. Danya had done everything she could possibly do to help him without dragging their family into it. Now it was up to him to carry the fight on. “To the coast, then.”

“It will be a hard journey,” A guard to his left said, eyes tracking the scenery with restless eyes. He was young, perhaps only three or four years older than Leander, with dark eyes and the beginnings of stubble on his chin. “We’re not exactly inconspicuous, eight armoured travelers on horses, even if we change our appearance. People will talk if anyone comes asking.”

“Our first priority is getting out of the armour and changing into travelling clothes,” Torin answered. “It’s a three week ride to the coast on a good road, shorter if we ride on harder. The problem with that is it’s the obvious route to the ships if your brothers figure out where we are heading for. One of the busiest roads too, so more likely for us to be recognised for what we are. We could take a lesser known route to the west, less likely to be spotted on it. But it would mean the journey will take longer, a week or so, perhaps more.”

Torin turned to Leander, seeking out his opinion. “ The question now is what road do you want us to take, Prince?”

Leander thought about it, really thought about it. “My brothers will be preoccupied with trying to kill each other at the palace, and from what we know of them, it won’t be an easy fight. That must give us some time to put distance between us and the castle. We need to take advantage of that as much as we can by taking the shorter route.”

Torin nodded, something warm like approval in his eyes and Leander felt like he had made the right choice. “The shorter route it is, then. We’ll stop at the next village to get new clothes and push on to Renwick for the night.”

No one offered any protest as they followed Torin back down the hill to the road and onwards. Renwick. It was the furthest Leander had ever been from the castle. A day's ride away.

And beyond that, the unknown.

* * *

Five days into the journey, Leander was already sick of all the endless riding and looking back over his shoulder, searching for the smallest glimmer of pursuit. Every morning he would wake up wrapped up in a blanket in the camp they made away from any civilization, bones aching and stiff from the previous day in the saddle. They broke their fast by eating a portion of cold lumpy porridge, before jumpring right back on their horses and pushing onwards. 

Their midday meal was flat breads and salted meat, eaten on the horses with few breaks to rest the horses and answering calls of nature. They rode until the daylight faded and they couldn’t go any further for fear of an accident that would risk them slowing down. A meagre camp was set up, a dinner of watery vegetable broth was eaten and then falling into an uneasy sleep to start it all over again the next day. 

Their fear of being followed was slipping away the more distance they put between themselves and the castle, helped by the monotony of the days and the lack of sleep and pain they felt from the hours of riding. The speed, despite their best efforts, was slowing down as the horses needed longer and longer to rest and be watered. 

Those they met on the road were mostly farmers with wagons of produce going to market and pilgrims travelling to the many shrines along the Royal Way. There were no soldiers that they could see, no men belonging to the mercenary guild that were heading in the direction of the capital. There were no weapons in sight and Torin’s large shoulders eased with every mile they ate up.

Their group drew some curious stares as they passed, with their large well-fed horses and the guard’s soldierly demeanour, but didn’t invite too many comments. While they were no longer wearing their armour, the armour being sold to a delighted metalsmith, they were clearly farmers or from the peasant class, people who didn’t look for trouble by being nosey for their own good. 

When they did stop at the villages to pick up supplies and hear what little news of the capital that they could find at the taverns, the people were full of talk of the King’s death. Herald’s bearing the black standards of mourning had passed through the villages with the news, but there was very little detail of anything to do with Leander’s brothers. There was nothing of Leander’s flight from the city, of any fights that might be happening, or how Kaldir, Atherton and Ennis fared.

If any of them were dead.

So Leander kept his head down, kept his face averted and his hair tied back under the hood of his green cloak. Not that he really needed to make the effort. The people they met were not people of the capital who might recognise him. People this far out had never seen Leander or any of the royal family in person. As far as they were concerned, Leander was simply one of their own. 

“Better to be safe than sorry,” Torin said as he unceremoniously yanked the hood lower on his head, effectively covering the whole of Leander’s face and muffled his indignant yelp. Leander slapped at the man’s hand away and glared balefully at him when he was released. 

The journey not only proved painful and exhausting, but for Leander it was incredibly lonely. He was surrounded by his guard night and day, yet entirely separate from them. He was of Royal blood and the men were in his employ, there was no camaraderie between them or any shared experience to bond them together. They were not friends and Leander didn’t know how to broach nor overcome that void between them. The guards were more than content with Torin speaking for them all to save them any awkward conversation. Torin led and they followed. 

Leander was isolated and with every mile they took, he felt the loneliness grow and grow inside of him, until it felt like a yawning chasm and he was desperate for some sort of feeling other than that unending ache.

Which was why he was forced to resort to something so stupid as to use his divination to find Kaldir. Not only was it loneliness that made him stay awake when all his guards settled down to sleep for the night, but the news they heard in the villages was so lacking in what was happening back at the castle. Had the fight begun? Were any of his brothers dead? Was Kaldir dead?

He couldn’t take the not knowing. He needed something tangible to get him through the days ahead. 

Once he was sure the others were sleeping soundly, he stood up from his bedroll on silent feet and moved away from the banked fire and further into the woods they had put up for the night. If Torinknew what Leander was about to attempt, he would never be able to understand. He had expressly ordered Leander to not use his magic under any circumstances, to not bring notice from others in his brother’s employ to have the means to find them, but Leander couldn’t not do anything.

It was like he was being driven to do it by the strongest of compulsions. He was helpless against the need other than to obey it.

Leander may not be as good as his brothers at magick, but divining was his power and he was confident enough to mask himself from any hostile eye that may be casting in search of his signature. 

Satisfied that he was far away enough not to disturb the guards from their dreams, he kneeled on the freezing ground and drew a circle around him in the dirt with the nail of his finger, his hand aching from the cold and digging deep into the hard pact earth. He closed his eyes, drew the energy from the earth and, on a breath out, he sent his conscious outwards into the world.

He soared across the miles they had already covered, the landscape blurring before his eyes. He felt no wind against his face, felt no forward momentum, he had no physical presence in this new journey- soaring, soaring, soaring, until finally - 

The land surrounding the castle was a field of the dead and dying. All of them were soldiers, a trailing mess of blue cloaks that belonged to Atherton and Ennis’ men, and the black armour of Kaldir’s. 

So the battle had begun. Wait, it had finished. But who had been the victor of this skirmish?

Leander turned away from the grim scene and he moved through the castle like a ghost, through walls of solid stone and echoing passageways lit by torchlight until he came to the Great Hall. There were black clad soldiers that were reveling in drinking from overflowing flagons and singing their crass victory songs. The relief that washed over him was like a great wave and his concentration almost left him entirely. He calmed himself, steadying his trajectory as he watched the spirits of the men heightened by the free flowing alcohol, and Leander couldn’t bear to watch anymore. 

Besides, the throne that sat in all of its glory at the head of the hall remained empty. There were at least two brothers still alive, his mind helpfully offered. Was it just him and Kaldir left now? Or did one of the twins survive the fighting?

If Kaldir’s men were here, then where was Kaldir himself?

Leander focused on the image of his half-brother in his mind’s eye and he felt a short sharp tug in his chest, leading him onward. Following the insistent tug, he left the Great Hall and the revelry behind and ventured back out into the courtyard. He turned right and came upon the two familiar doors. Passing through them, Leander drifted up the staircase, unlit and depressingly cold, passing through the hallway to - 

To Leander’s own bed chambers. 

He hesitated on the threshold, pangs of homesickness in his chest as he peered inside. Everything was exactly as he had left it almost a week ago. The scene surprised him enough that he starred in wonderment. He had thought his possessions would have been taken as spoils of war, distributed amongst the opportunists as prizes, perhaps even thrown into a pile in the courtyard and set alight with his likeness at the top like some tragic effigy. 

But it all remained there as it lay, even his bed was still unmade, his sheets pulled back in a heap, his sleep shirt discarded on the floor. It was like Leander would be coming back at any moment. 

It felt like a shrine.

In the middle of the room, Leander spied a man standing motionless, facing the large windows with his back to the door. With his heart leaping in his chest, he realized the man was in fact Kaldir. He was without his armour, the black plate and chainmail were dumped in a gory heap at his feet. His long legs were encased in the tight underclothes that protected his skin from the chafing of the armour, but his torso was bare.

Leander couldn’t help himself. He drifted closer, circling him so he could finally see his brother’s face. Kaldir had his eyes closed, breathing in and out in measured breaths, centering himself. His dark hair was curling across his forehead with sweat from the battle. Mud and blood streaked across his cheeks, and down his long neck. A deep angry bruise was forming on the side of his torso, at least a hand span across the flesh, and long scratches that bled down his defined pectorals that made Leander wince in sympathy. 

The blood mingled with dark blue painted spiral glyphs across the muscles of his abdomen and up his arms. The paint flickered for a moment and lit up like blue fire under his skin, puttering out before flaring back again. Even though Leander had left his physical body behind in the woods, he could still feel the stirring electric energy of Kaldir’s magic press against his consciousness and Leander grew breathless with the sheer weight of it in his lungs.

To see him relatively unharmed and not amongst the carnage of the battlefield outside, filled him with an odd mixture of stark relief and mortal dread churning together. The feeling made Leander blow out the breath he had been holding in. 

_How am I supposed to defend myself against you?_

Kaldir suddenly opened his eyes and his stare fixed unerringly on him. 

Leander gave a wordless cry and tried to pull back, to get out of there and back to his own body, but Kaldir reached out, his movement blurring with the speed of it, and clamped Leander’s arm in a vice like grip.

 _He shouldn’t be able to sense him, let alone touch him_ , Leander thought with a touch of desperate hysteria. _This can’t be happening._

He tried to wrench his arm out of the grip, but Kaldir held firm, pulling him in closer so that their faces were mere inches apart, Leander’s head tilted back to stare up at him. 

“Why did you run from me?” Kaldir demanded, his voice soft but it carried real weight with it. “The moment I was informed of our father’s death, I sent my Captain to get you, but you were already fleeing the castle.”

Leander had no lips to speak with, no voice box to form the words he wanted to say in his defence, so he just shook his head and tried harder to pull away from that grip. 

Kaldir wasn’t having any of it, his fingers digging harder into Leander’s corporeal form like he was solid. He felt that touch like it burned him to his very core. “Come home,” he entreated. “I have already defeated Atherton in battle, he’s one of the corpses rotting outside. I would have had Ennis too but he deserted the field with his men and is hiding in the surrounding hills. Tomorrow I follow him with my army, his only course of action would be to face me. There’s nothing stopping you from returning to me safely. I swear no harm will come to you.”

Leander wanted to believe it so badly, believe Kaldir’s word like so many times before. But they were all raised with the brutal truth of succession and Leander couldn’t get the image of Kaldir’s Captain standing in the doorway with a bloodied sword in his hands. 

_He wants me to go back so he can kill me. Spare his men one less fight by luring the gullible brother home into a trap with minimal effort on his part._

It’s what everyone expected of him, after all. Too trusting, too naive, too weak to survive for much longer.

Leander reached up with his free hand and grasped Kaldir’s hand, meeting his eyes and keeping it. “What’s stopping me?” he mouthed carefully so that Kaldir could understand every word he was saying. “I won’t die by your hands.”

Leander used considerable magical strength to prise Kaldir’s hand from his arm and finally out of his brother’s reach. Kaldir watched him do it with a tightening of his jaw and his eyes darkening with an intense emotion that made Leander flush with heat. 

“Come home,” Kaldir said again, his entreaty disappearing in the face of his anger. The magical compulsion in his words hammered at Leander’s resolve, shaking him to his very centre. “Come home or I will hunt you down to the world’s end. Do you hear me, Leander? There is nowhere you can go where I won't find you, no place that will protect you from me. Your guards won’t stand against me, not even the mighty Torin. One by one they will die in your name if you _don’t come home_.”

Kaldir’s glyphs lit up and burned brightly at his words, like he had made a solemn vow to the God’s themselves and his eyes burned with fire. Leander trembled with stark terror at the sight. 

He backed away and Kaldir tracked his every move, turning his body to keep them facing each other as Leander shifted away to the door. Was this really the brother he grew up with? The brother who read him bedtime stories and soothed his nightmares with his calming voice? The brother who encouraged his studies, who ruffled his hair when Leander made stupid mistakes or cracked jokes at inappropriate times?

_The masks were finally off._

Despite his mounting fear, Leander firmed his resolve and stood taller, looking Kaldir right in those intense eyes. “Never,” He whispered before turning and leaving, travelling at breakneck speed back to his waiting body. 

He entered his body, taking a deep breath of frigid air, the needle-like pain of his throat settling him back in his skin. It took a great deal of his energy and magick to spend himself so far and he collapsed forwards on the floor, unable to sit or get up properly. His muscles twitched with the exhaustion, but he was able to roll over onto his back and stare sightlessly up at the night sky, the darker shadows of the tree’s naked branches like cracks in the open canvas of darkness.

His upper arm throbbed with pain and he reached up with the other to fumble at the lacings of his tunic with slow, sluggish movements. It took an age to unlace the ties and pull the collar back enough for him to uncover his shoulder and the top of his arm where Kaldir had gripped it tightly. 

There, in the pale glow of moonlight, he could just make out the rapidly forming bruises that were shaped like fingers across his skin. Leander laid his hand across it, sharply aware of the size difference between their hand spans. Leander swallowed painfully and let his hand slide away from the brand to glare up at the sky again.

“Prince Leander.” The sharp call of Torin roused him from his thoughts and he lifted his head from the ground to spot the bulk of his captain coming towards him. “What are you doing?” He demanded. 

Leander let his head drop back to the ground with a thump, unable to keep it up any longer. “I’ve done something incredibly stupid,” he replied, not having the heart to lie to him. “And now I think we are all about to pay for it.”

The masks were truly off and now they would all have to run if they wanted to escape with their lives. 


	3. Chapter Three

“Are you out of your Gods damned mind?” Torin snarled, his face turning an interesting shade of purple in his anger. 

The last time Leander had seen his captain so angry was when Leander was ten summers old and he had fallen from climbing the large ash tree down by the moat and broke his arm. He hadn’t let Leander leave his sight for months after he had recovered his confidence and started getting into mischief again.

But this time, Leander couldn’t begrudge Torin for his ire. Leander had done an incredibly stupid thing and the fury was justifiably deserved. Leander, contrite, was all the more sorry for it. 

He sat hunched in on himself by the dwindling fire while Torin stood over him like a gruff avenging angel. It was now early morning, the sun rising in the sky, and the other guards were up and getting ready to move on from their camp. They gave the duo a wide berth, heads and eyes down on their chores and acting like the tension wasn’t so thick they could hardly breathe. 

“What the hell were you thinking?” Torin hissed, unable to stand still for longer than a second, his pacing back and forth wearing the ground down beneath his booted feet. “Are we or are we not trying to keep a low profile?”

Leander thought it best to keep his replies as short as possible. “We are.”

“Are we or are we not trying to smuggle you out of the country so that your brothers don’t end your life right here and now?”

Leander’s shoulders drew further in on themselves. “We are.”

“Then what the hell got into your silly little head that it was a fantastic idea to undo everything we have done and spy on the castle? Not only that, but to get caught by Kaldir whilst doing it!”

“That wasn’t my intent!” Leander protested hotly, unable to keep himself in check. “I just- I needed to know more about what was happening back home. We were getting nothing from the people we’ve met along the way, no news of how it was going between my brothers and I-” he faltered, his voice thick with unshed tears and he hated himself for showing his weakness in front of the men. “I needed to know what was happening.”

Torin was silent for a moment, his anger spiking before it left him completely and he deflated like a balloon. Leander didn’t look at him, instead staring into the fire and willing the show of emotion to dissipate.

He heard the big man move away, the sound of rustling, before something wrapped in cloth landed in Leander’s lap. It was the last of their dry biscuits. “You better eat up,” Torin said, his voice back to its normal pitch, “You expended a lot of energy in your ridiculous escapades.”

Leander nodded and forced himself to take a bite, chewing the hard wafer like biscuit but not tasting it. His hands still shook, but he was steadier in his body and the dizziness had left him a while ago. 

Torin came to kneel by the fireside, his hands held out to catch the heat of the flames. “What's done is done,” he said begrudgingly, though Leander got the feeling he still wanted to club Leander round the ears like he was still a wayward child. He wasn’t wrong. “What worries me more is that Kaldir was able to sense you. To grab you like that, like you were corporeal.”

Leander swallowed his mouthful with difficulty. “He shouldn’t have been able to do that. He’s not a diviner, the House of Belford doesn't have the ability. Only a diviner can sense the presence of another, and only a Master diviner can physically hold another in their manifested form. I don’t know how he did it.”

Torin watched the flames for a while, his swarthy face frowning in thought. “Court Houses have been known to hide different affinities of magick, as long as it is in the Houses best interest. It could be that Kaldir’s House has some divination in their bloodline. It would explain why Kaldir acted differently with you. Like calls to like, afterall”

The direction of conversation made Leander pause in eating. “He acted differently around me? How so?”

Torin shrugged his big shoulders. “It’s hard to put into words. He was always hard to read, even as a child. He kept his thoughts and emotions to himself, never let anyone know what was going on in that brain of his. He held himself completely separate from his surroundings.” Torin watched Leander thoughtfully. “You won’t know this, or at least you weren’t at the castle when it happened as you were visiting your mother in the North at the time. But years ago, when Kaldir was sixteen, there was an attempt on his life. A knight got it in his head that killing a Prince would be justified for the wars Nasria had waged on the world. He tried to stab your brother in the back during a training session in the yard.”

Leander blinked in surprise. “I didn’t know. No one said anything about it to me.”

Torin shrugged again. “Well, it was an embarrassment to the King to have one of his own Knights to try and assassinate a member of the Royal family. A Prince may kill a Prince, that is expected. But a Knight to kill a Prince, that is just abhorrent. The King didn’t want the incident getting out to the public in case some other idiot wanted to try his luck.”

“What happened?”

“Kaldir sensed the knight before he could draw blood. Your brother ripped part of the castle wall out and dropped it on him. He did it all without hesitation, didn’t even seem phased that he just crushed a man to death, like an ant under his shoe. Just ordered his knights to clean up the mess before leaving the field, calm as you please.”

Leander winced, trying not to picture the particularly gruesome scene.

Torin shook his head, like he was trying to dislodge the image himself. “It made me uncomfortable when he looked at me after that. It’s difficult to predict a man’s actions when they have such power in their hands.”

Leander didn’t interrupt. He had seen that coldness in Kaldir that Torin spoke of when Leander watched Kaldir at royal processions and court parties, how he interacted with those around him. He was all politeness and charm to their faces, but there was no real warmth behind any of it. He was simply acting out the part of Prince of the blood. The Sun Priests believed the eyes are the windows to the soul, but if that was the case for Kaldir, he kept his soul under lock and key so no one could touch it, to use it against him. 

Torin continued. “But he was different when he was around you. He was lighter, he was connected to the world that he wasn’t in other ways that made me breathe easier. I didn’t have to have my hand on my sword when he was in the room with you.”

“You mean he was violent all the time he wasn’t with me?” Leander asked, brows pinched in doubt.

“Violence would suggest a foundation of anger, so not exactly. He was like a panther in those petting zoos your father was so fond of. A panther is big and powerful and you can’t help but admire them even when you are wary of them. The panther may be in repose and at its leisure, but you don’t dare take your eyes off of it in case it decided it wanted to take a swipe at you with its claws.”

Leander couldn’t help but tease the older man. “Is Kaldir the panther in repose in this scenario of yours?”

Torin didn’t smile at the joke. He may not have even understood it as a joke, so lost in his thoughts. “Yes. He was, is, capable of great acts of violence, but not towards you. He watched you all the time, like he had to know where you were at all hours of the day. Sometimes I couldn't help but wonder if he-” here he stopped short, his mouth clicking shut, thinking better of his next words.

Leander tilted his head in inquiry, his biscuits completely forgotten. “Sometimes you wondered what?”

Torin shook his head. “Nothing, it doesn’t matter. Not anymore, at any rate.” He turned the subject back to their earlier conversation. “House Belford had no Divining power that we know of. Their magicks were offensive only that we knew of. You said that a diviner can sense another diviner? But you didn’t sense him?”

Leander shook his head, empathic. “There is no way that I could have missed Kaldir being another diviner. 

Torin shrugged his shoulders stiffly. “The Belfords were a lot of things, but secretive wasn’t one of them. Not being able to show off goes against their nature. Besides, having too many different kinds of magick in the bloodline tends to weaken it. Telekinesis was their pride and joy, they would have kept it that way.”

Leander watched Torin. “Then how did he sense me? How was he able to grab me and hold me there to his will?”

This time Torin turned from the fire to face Leander, the orange flames casting strange shadows under his grey eyes. Wolf eyes, Leander had often thought. “I think, somehow, you and he are connected.”

Leander felt his heart drop to his stomach. “What do you mean? How can we be connected?”

“There are ways, Prince,” Torin said grimly. “I’m not an expert in these things. I’ve heard secondary accounts of people who have used magick that can bind a person to them, their very life essence locked together as one. Before the Sun priests and their teachings, it was a practise between loved ones. It strengthened familial bonds. But there were people who would abuse it, corrupt the bond and keep those close to them that wouldn’t want to be there in the first place. People killed each other for it. So, when the Priests came, they deemed the practise as black magick, to be outlawed and feared. Your father hated such magick, he thought it to be enslaving one to another. It was too powerful to be properly regulated.”

Leander listened to it all with a steadily growing sense of disbelief. “There’s no way Kaldir would have bound me to him. He wouldn’t know how.”

Torin scowled at him. “You put a lot of faith in a brother who would kill you to sit on the throne.”

“You just spent the last ten minutes telling me how Kaldir wouldn’t hurt me.” Leander said through gritted teeth.

“Wouldn’t, Prince, being the operative word. A lot can change when a throne and a dynasty are up for grabs.”

Leander ignored the barb. “You said binding was done with the use of magick and a ritual like that, to lock your life essence with another, surely it would have been long and costly to the caster. It’s not something you can do in a room full of people without anyone noticing what was happening. Without me noticing,” Leander pointed out at Torin. “You’ve been with me my whole life, can you really say there was a moment where Kaldir could have accomplished it?”

Torin looked at him appraisingly. “I may have been with you since you were born, Prince, but there were times we were apart. It could have been a great number of instances where it could have happened.”

“I don’t remember anything,” Leander persisted. “Surely I would have remembered something so important as being bound to someone?”

“That doesn’t mean a damned thing. How else can you explain how a non-diviner is able to sense you and be successful in anchoring you to the spot? If you and Kaldir are bound, he would sense you anywhere in the world.”

That revelation didn’t bear thinking about. “If that’s the case then, running isn’t an option anymore, is it? What is left to us?”

Torin was in deep thought, before he grimaced. “There is someone who may be able to help us. She’s a shaman, if you have a binding put on you then she is powerful enough to break the connection. She would know what to do.”

Leander was curious at Torin’s reaction. “Do you know this woman personally?”

Torin’s scowl was big and bigger than ever. “Yes, I know her. I did have a life before I came to the castle, you know.”

Leander hid his smile as he finished the last of the biscuits. “It was only a question, Torin, keep your helmet on. You can keep your secrets, they are safe from me.”

Torin eyed him suspiciously. “Why do I not believe you?” he asked plaintively. 

“No idea.”

Torin sighed. “She lives in a village a day’s ride to the east. It’s out of our way, probably adding another day to our journey, but I don’t think we have any other choice.”

Leander sobered at the thought. “No, I don't suppose we do.”

“If we want to get to our destination before nightfall, then we better leave now, Prince,” Torin said as he began to smother the flames with dirt to put them out. 

It was once they had dismantled their camp site and had mounted their horses again that Leander sensed the disquiet of the other guards for the first time. The protective circle they had made around him had gotten a little bigger and they had averted their faces whenever Leander looked at them. There was no doubt that they had heard the conversation between Leander and Torin and it had disturbed them greatly. 

Leander couldn’t blame them for their reactions. The odds had always been stacked against them and now, if he was truly bound to Kaldir as Torin thought, it was looking like an impossible task.

* * *

When Leander was fifteen summers old, he experienced his first crush. The receiver of his attentions wasn’t one of his father’s court, as one might expect. Leander never felt comfortable around the fawning, sneering Lords and Ladies of the Nasrian court, who wouldn’t hesitate to stab you in the back if it meant the betterment of their positions in high society. They were all incredibly bright and beautiful, like stars in the night sky, but they were just as cold and remote. Leander was used to that particular glamour and it did nothing to tempt his interest.

When he was finally tempted, it was none other than one of the stable hands that looked after his father’s numerous stallions. He was called Sacha and he was two summers older than Leander. He was big and strong from the hard work in the stables, his skin sun kissed and his hair a deep honey blonde that fell in his eyes. When he smiled, it was shy and he ducked his head to hide it like it was a secret thing.

Leander loved his hands, larger than his own, quick and dexterous. Despite their size, they were gentle on the horses, and Leander’s face heated when he thought about them. He often wondered what they would feel like on his skin, would they feel rough with callouses, a marked difference to his own soft hands. Would he like it? He was sure he would like it.

Leander began to spend more of his time at the stables with the excuse to his teachers of wanting to improve his horsemanship. He wasn’t exactly lying, Sacha was teaching him the correct posture in the saddle, but they both knew the real reason he was there. At fifteen, Leander didn’t really know how to hide such new and strong feelings that he was experiencing. 

It was Sacha who broke the stalemate between them, despite the potential consequences of a peasant laying a finger on a Royal Prince. If it had been up to Leander, he would never have had the courage to do anything about his infatuation. Sacha, brave bold Sacha, solved that problem for him. One evening, while they had been whiling an hour or two together in the stables, he had reached out to Leander and drew him closer by a hand at his waist. He dipped his head and Leander met him halfway, experiencing his first kiss.

Leander felt a full body shiver from the shy contact and pressed closer for more, chasing the tingly sensation that sparked a growing sense of awareness in him. Sacha clutched at him harder, only too pleased to offer more to the Prince.

Leander made a soft sound in the back of his throat as he opened his mouth wider, tongue seeking Sacha’s own, and he felt the other boy respond with a shiver of his own. Knowing that he had such an effect on Sacha elated Leander further and he repeated the movement with more confidence to see if he could produce the same result again and again and again - 

“Leander.”

The sound of his name made both of the boys freeze for a moment before quickly pulling away. Leander’s heart was in his throat as he whipped around and looked to the entrance of the stable like a guilty child being caught doing something he shouldn’t have.

Which was apt. Princes don’t go around kissing stable boys in their spare time.

Standing in the half shadows of the doorway with his expression hidden was Kaldir, the long lines of his body taut with tension. The relief that Leander had felt that it wasn’t one of his other brothers or, Heaven forbid, his father, was short lived. Kaldir hadn’t uttered anything else but his name, and yet Leander knew instinctively that he had done something terrible. 

“Kaldir,” Leander said quietly and the rest of his words died on his lips when Kaldir stepped into the light and the furious gaze landed on him. Leander had never seen Kaldir look like that before.

Kaldir had never looked at him like that before.

His usual calm dark eyes churned like the coming of a storm, the muscles in his jaw and his neck stood out in sharp relief as he ground his teeth together in his ire. Leander wanted desperately to turn invisible in that moment, to turn into mist and be swept away by the currents of the wind.

“Kaldir,” he tried again, voice cracking with emotion, but Kaldir interrupted him with a deceptively soft tone of voice that contradicted the tension in his body.

“You should go back inside and make yourself ready for the feast tonight. Father wants us all to be there and I think you’ve had enough practise of your horsemanship today.”

Leander’s cheeks heated with shame at his brother’s words and he took a couple steps forward before he realised what he was doing. Listening to what Kaldir had to say, obeying Kaldir’s every command, was second nature to him. He stopped his movement and turned back to Sacha, wanting to reassure the other boy or communicate his apology over the situation somehow-

“Do not look at him,” Kaldir said, he voice snapping like a whip in the silence, his magic rising and making the wood rafters in the stable’s roof creak ominously. “I will see you inside after he and I have a talk.”

It took a moment for Leander to understand that when he said ‘he and I’, he meant ‘he and Sacha’. The dread he felt only sunk further. Leander didn’t want to leave them alone together. Kaldir hadn’t taken his eyes off of Sacha since he had made himself known to them and ‘talk’ sounded a lot like ‘hurt’. But he didn't know what to do to diffuse the situation and the way Kaldir was acting scared him. Gone was the amenable, placid brother and in his place stood a powerful vengeful stranger that Leander didn’t know how to interact with.

With no other option, Leander fled back to the castle and didn’t look back. He went through the motions of getting ready for dinner with the King on autopilot, numb, and took his seat in the banquet hall feeling sick and agitated. He could barely keep his seat through his constant restlessness. 

Kaldir appeared after a time, looking like the scene in the stables had never taken place. He treated everyone in the same manner as he always did, including Leander. This only heightened Leander’s confusion over what really happened. He didn’t have the heart to ask him what had happened after he had left. If he broached the subject, Leander wasn’t sure what Kaldir would have done…

Leander never saw Sacha again after that. When Leander got up the courage to ask another stablehand on his whereabouts, he was told that Sacha had collected his wages and told them he would be leaving the capital. 

The next day another man took his place in the King’s employ. 


	4. Chapter Four

Torin said the shaman lived in a village, but calling the place a ‘village’ was pushing it. Knollcreek wasn’t much more than a few farmsteads and working cottages grouped loosely together by a bend in the river. The river was often used by boats ferrying goods from the coast to inland and the capital and the village had grown from there.

Torin made a beeline for a cottage that stood further apart from the others. It was an unassuming two story building, a little on the squat side, with a dark yellow thatched roof that nested swallows and a crooked chimney that was puffing a steady stream of wood smoke into the chill air. A low cobbled stone wall marked its boundary and in the little garden there were different rows of greenery carefully planted.

As they drew closer, Leander realised it was a well tended herb garden much like what the cook had at the castle, and as he took in a deep breath through his nose, he could just make out the fragrant scent of lemon balm on the air. He recognised the leafy plants of chamomile, yarrow, echinacea and peppermint. They were the principal ingredients for medicines that would treat common ailments such as colds and flu, inflammation, minor cuts, infections, pain, muscle spasms, anxiety, poor digestion and insomnia. 

Even now, Leander could picture the Master Hammond in his stuffy greenhouse, the air ripe with the smell of earth and plant matter, his hands and under his fingernails were always stained with mud. His brisk voice droning on, the heat and boredom making Leander’s eyelids heavy as he tried to take notes. _“The Yarrow, or Achillea millefolium, is a member of the aster family of plants. A poultice of the plant can be used to stop blood flow from wounds. It can also reduce inflammation and muscle spasms and relieve pain…Are you listening to any of this, Prince?”_

Leander looked to Torin. “I thought you said she was a shaman, not a herb witch.”

“She is a shaman,” Torin replied as he brought his horse to a standstill and slid from the saddle to land on his feet without so much as a wobble. “She also knows her way around herbs and the like.”

“Why waste your magic on healing scratches when a simple poultice would do,” came a female voice from the cottage door. “The Great Captain Torin Lowbrook, on my doorstep in the flesh. Will wonders never cease.”

At the open door stood a tall thin woman who looked around thirty summers old. She had long dark auburn hair that was pulled back from her pretty face and twisted into a braid that was threaded through with different strips of coloured cloth. Her tight wine coloured dress was laced up tightly at the front and the sleeves were rolled up to her elbow, showing off multitudes of bracelets that clicked together with different charms and bits of bone as she crossed her arms in front of her. Around her slim neck was a choker of knotted black fabric with a large blood coloured gem in the middle. It caught the last of the daylight with an odd sheen. 

Her smile was wide and impish, her dark eyes on Torin like Leander and the rest of the guards didn’t exist. “The years have not been kind to you, old man.”

“Not all of us have those clever charms about our wrists to make us look young and beautiful, Alara,” Torin said in a neutral voice that spoke of repressed exasperation. “I’m here on urgent business.”

Her smile only grew wider at those words. “Oh? And what urgent business could possibly lead you back to my doorstep?”

Torin didn’t answer, he just pointed a thumb over his shoulder at Leander, who had been watching them both with barely contained interest. When her eyes met his for the first time, he tried not to balk under that penetrating stare. It felt like she could peer into his very being with just one look, stripping him bare and horribly vulnerable.

She stared at him for a long moment, long enough for the guards around him to shift uneasily in their saddles, before she tilted her head up to the heavens and closed her eyes. “By the Gods, will the concerns of Princes and Kings ever leave me in peace?” She sighed longsufferingly, before turning and heading back inside the cottage without another word.

They all stared at the open doorway, before Leander broke the stilted silence and said haltingly, “Does she want us to wait outside, or follow her in…”

“Get your asses inside here before all the warmth is leached out the door and my patience grows thin,” she called back.

Well that answered that. Leander slid off of his horse and stumbled forward, his legs feeling like jelly after so many hours of riding without pause. He caught himself before he hit the wall.

“You lot stay out here, I want you to make a perimeter of protection around the cottage. Keep an eye out for anything suspicious. Call out if you need me,” Torin said to the guards.

“Yes sir,” they echoed, sounding painfully relieved in not having to go into the cottage with them. Leander didn’t blame them. He would have preferred to remain with them.   
  
Leander looked at Torin, face carefully blank. “So. Alara.”

Torin narrowed his eyes at him. “Don’t say anything you will live to regret.”

Leander ignored him. “She seems nice. Slightly scary and a whole lot intimidating, perhaps, but nice. Is she an old flame of yours?”

Torin rolled his eyes. “Old is right. She may look young, but Alara is over sixty years old.”

Leander’s jaw dropped. “What, really?”

“It’s those charms of hers that keep her looking so young, not to mention the magick she works prolongs her life. I knew her as a teenager. Back then she looked no older than I did.”

A wistful expression passed over his face and Leander wondered at it. He wasn’t used to seeing Torin so pensive. Angry and frustrated were his default settings, so Leander tried to lift his mood. “Liking older women is no bad thing, Torin, it’s actually pretty common-”

“If you weren’t the Prince, I would club you round the ears,” Torin mumbled.

Leander thought it best not to point out that if he did hit Leander, there was no one there to stop him or punish him. He wasn’t even sure if he was even a Prince anymore, running away surely meant he had forfeited that title. Instead, Leander followed Torin silently into the cottage, the door closing behind them on its own. 

The fragrant scent of herbs were a lot more pungent in the confines of the room and Leander could see plants bundled together with brown twine and hung from a wooden rack suspended from the ceiling to dry out. The room was dominated by a large stone built fireplace, a fire burning in the grate and making sweat prickle at the small of his back. A black cast iron cooking pot hung over the ifre, the lid closed. Whether it was food or other concoctions in there, Leander couldn’t tell, nor did he want to know.

In the centre of the room was a heavy wooden table and a set of mismatched chairs around it. All manner of items were strewn across the waxed surface, from a whittling knife with a bone handle, to a leather bound book whose pages were yellowing and the deep red binding was cracked. 

The rest of the room was sparsely furnished, a bookcase standing against the opposite wall with a multitude of different shaped and coloured bottles and dishes. A staircase led to the second floor. 

The woman, Alara, was standing beside the fireplace and staring into the flames. “You’ll have to excuse the lodgings, my Prince. When you practise a faith that is vigorously persecuted by the precious sun priests and their henchmen, money is a little hard to come by when people are too afraid of you to ask for help.”

Leander licked his dry lips. “I am not here to pass judgement on your home. I- I need your help.”

She turned at this and smiled bitterly. “Why would a Prince of Nasria need help from a humble shaman such as myself?”

Torin was about to speak, most likely a disparaging comment on the word ‘humble’, but Leander beat him to it. “My father has passed away and the fight for succession between my brothers has begun. I have no interest in the throne.”

“Dangerous leanings for a Prince,” Alara remarked casually. 

“That’s why i’m running. I have to leave Nasria, but I fear that Prince Kaldir has somehow bound me to him.”

Alara nodded. “I can imagine that would be an impediment to your plans, yes,” she said sagely. “What has led you to believe he has bound your life to his?”

“He was able to sense me when I divined the castle. He gripped my corporeal form like I was actually there with him.” Leander said.

“He has no divine magic?”

Leander shook his head. “No, none that we know of.”

“As we know with magickal genetics, defensive magick in the parents would often be cancelled out by the more dominant offensive magicks.” Alara replied. “And Prince Kaldir is one of the most powerful telekenetics in the Kingdom.”

“Yes,” Leander said, for want of anything better to say. It was the same conclusion he and Torin had come to earlier. 

Alara appraised him again, before finally turning to Torin. “Not only did you willingly leave me to play soldier for the King, you didn’t even do a very good job of it, it seems. Allowing your Prince to be bound to another? Really?”

Torin’s cheeks reddened at the rebuke. “For Gods sake, woman-”

Alana breezed over him. “Well, there’s no point in crying over spilled milk now, the damage is already done.” She turned back to Leander, appraising him once more. “But you’re right, you have been bound to him.”

Leander’s heart stuttered. Some small part of him had wished that Torin had been wrong. “How do you know?”

Her eyes unfocused, like she was staring at something beyond Leander and the room they were in. “Because a red thread of fate is tied to you and it leads right out the door and to the south, where your great castle lies.”

“So now you can see why i brought him to you,” Torin said. “We need you to cut the connection, cut this thread of fate between my Prince and Kaldir. Kaldir will kill him the moment he catches him.”

Alara grimaced. “It’s not as simple as you make it out to be.”

“I can pay you,” Leander interjected, feeling desperate. “I wouldn’t ask it of you for free.”

Alara snorted inelegantly. “Of course you’ll pay me for it, I don’t do work for free, even for adorable Princes in distress. Money isn’t the problem here. You need to understand that severing a binding isn’t simply cutting the thread between you two and then you can be on your merry way. I don’t have magical scissors for the job just lying around. Binding is deep magic, it burrows into your very soul, latches on until it’s practically a part of you that it’s difficult to tell where you end and he begins. Deep magic was used to forge it and nothing short of deep magic will break it.”

Leander’s voice was small when he replied, “Does that mean you won’t be able to do it?”

Alara took a deep breath. “I can do it, but you’re asking the wrong question. It’s not whether i’m able to do it, it’s about whether you’re strong enough to survive the process.”

Torin drew himself up to his full height in appalled surprise. “It could kill him?”

Alara nodded grimly. “It could, it has happened before in the past. Some people can’t withstand the magical backlash of severing the connection. Others go insane from the emptiness it leaves behind. I would be digging into your soul, Prince. I would be tearing him out of you and that leaves a certain emptiness behind. A wound to your soul that won’t heal. You’ll be yearning for him for the rest of your life, regardless if you hate each other. Bindings are costly in that respect, to both parties.”

Leander shook his head, trying to make sense of it all. “I can only see the benefits to Kaldir. What would the severance of the binding cost him?”

“He’ll lose the part of himself that he wove into you. He’ll feel the severance of the thread just as you would, perhaps even more. He’ll yearn to have the connection to you back, most desperately.”

“He deserves every painful minute coming to him,” Torin growled. “He did this to himself for his own personal gain, rigging the victory of succession in his favour.”

“It seems an odd choice of keeping an eye on you at all times though, doesn’t it?” Alara mused, her beautiful face in thought. “There are other ways, easier ways, of keeping you in his sights. Spies are plentiful at court, I would imagine. Preparing a trap for when your father dies and you attempt to leave the castle would surely be easy to instigate. A binding seems so heavy handed and costly to himself.”

“What are you trying to say? That it isn’t Kaldir’s binding?” Torin demanded. 

“Oh, it’s definitely his binding alright. He couldn’t have sensed you divining otherwise,” she looked to Leander. “Killing you would have the same effect as me severing the connection, he’ll still be losing a part of himself regardless. If you ask me, it seems a needless sacrifice just to know where you are at all times.”

“The throne isn’t a big enough reward for you?” Torin asked incredulously

Alara didn’t seem to hear him. She addressed Leander. “Are you sure he wants to kill you?”

Torin sputtered. “What else would he want with him? Are you just going to ignore what has happened at every succession because something seems a little heavy handed?”

“Traditions are often like rules. They are more fun when you can break them,” Alara murmured. “But then, what do I know? I wasn’t brought up to be royalty and your motives are alien to me. So what will it be, Prince? Are you willing to risk your life to be free of your brother forever?”

“What other choice do I have?” Leander thought aloud. “If I don’t go through with it and we try for the coast, he’ll find me anyway. The result will be the same.”

“Prince…” Torin said, like he wanted to argue, but he didn’t finish. He knew as well as Leander, that Leander was right. They couldn’t go any further until this happened. 

Alara clapped her hands together. “Alright then. I’ll take my payment up front, if you’d be so kind. Forty silvers should just about cover it.”

“Forty silvers!” Torin blustered.

“Done,” Leander said quickly. “What do we need to do?”

“The table needs to be cleared and I'll need some of my scarves,” she said as she began to collect the items on the table into a pile and dump them into one of the chairs and Leander came closer to help.

“Scarves?” He asked, perturbed. 

“Yes, Prince. You’ll have to be laying down on the table for this and I'll be using the scarves to tie you down to it. Scarves will be gentler on your skin than rope, if you get my drift.”

“Why does he need to be tied down?” Torin asked, alarmed at the prospect of a Prince of the blood being tied like some common prisoner.

Alara shot him a scathing look. “Weren’t you listening to anything I have just said? This is going to hurt, he’ll be tied down so he won’t flail about. I’m going to need you to hold him down too, put that strength of yours to good use rather than you looking pretty in the corner while the Prince and I do all of the work.”

“I knew you thought I was still pretty,” Torin said under his breath, but moved to help her anyway.

Alara pulled down a bundle of brightly coloured fabric, presumably the scarves, from the top shelf above the bottles and turned to Leander with a wide smile that was a little mischievous. “Hop up on the table and lay down on your back like a good boy, Prince. It’s time to get tied down.”

Leander gave his own uncertain smile back and wondered what exactly he had signed up for.

* * *

Leander had removed his travelling cloak and shoes before he got up on the table. His ankles were tied to the corners, a scarf was firmly wrapped around his torso and his hands were tied to the corners above his head. He stared up at the grainy rafters that made up the ceiling, his heart hammering in his chest like a caged bird. 

He was surprised to feel himself trembling with fear and he balled his hands into fists to stop it. His breath was quickening, in-out, in-out, until he felt dizzy with it and the ceiling tilted to the side alarmingly. 

“I don’t feel right,” he gasped, his voice weak and breathy. “I don’t- I think i’m going to be sick.”

Torin’s face swam into view over him, his face pinched with concern. “What’s wrong with him?”

Alara leaned over Leander and placed her hand on his forehead, tilting his face up so she could see his rolling eyes better. “It’s the binding. It’s trying to change the Prince’s mind in breaking it. Just relax, Prince, Let that feeling roll over you like water off a duck’s back. It will fade away soon enough.”

“Is this Kaldir’s doing? Is he making Leander feel sick?” Torin asked, worry creeping into his tone. 

“No,” Alara answered. “At least, not yet. But the magick will warn Kaldir on what is about to happen. And then things will really get interesting.”

“You and I have different definitions on what is interesting,” Leander said with a slur to his words and it produced a strained chuckle from Torin.

“I imagine we have different definitions on a lot of things, Prince. Now here,” Alara then shoved what was essentially a strip of toughened leather into his mouth. “Bite down on this. It’ll stop you from biting your tongue off in the process.”

“Mmf,” Leander said and did as he was told, the leather a little salty in his mouth.

He was experiencing tunnel vision, darkness encroaching on the edges of his sight and bleeding inwards until he could barely see his surroundings. He was beginning to have an anxiety attack, his breath coming in short sharp bursts, and the scarves that held him down to the table were definitely not helping things.

When Torin spoke again, his voice sounded far away. “Whatever you’re going to do, do it fast.”

“Hold his shoulders down and brace yourself. I’m starting now.”

_Leander._

Leander flinched at the voice in his head. It sounded like Kaldir. 

_What are you up to, Leander?_

Oh Gods, it _was_ Kaldir.

Big hands held him down so he could barely move and Alara began to chant words that made no sense and were impossibly guttural in pitch, like she spoke from deep within her chest. Leander blinked rapidly, trying to blink away the encroaching darkness but nothing worked. 

Before everything went entirely pitch black, before his whole world was molten agony and he screamed himself hoarse, he saw Alara glowing like a beacon of pure white light.

* * *

_Leander was eight summers again and he was on fire with the burning sickness. His whole body was wracked with fever, burning from the inside out, his insides turning to nothing but blazing cinders._

_Every one of his limbs ached wretchedly, his clammy skin becoming so sensitized that it was painful to wear his night clothes, the material like sandpaper on raw wounds. He couldn’t even stand having a blanket over him, groaning in pain at the mattress beneath him. The light from the candles arranged around the room pierced his eyes like white hot needles, making his head throb fiercely with every beat of his heart._

_He had been moved from his bedchambers to a quarantine zone outside the castle grounds in a nearby farmstead owned by a family who had begrudgingly given it up for royal use. It was deemed a safe enough distance away from the King, away from the other healthy Princes._

_He was not expected to live through it._

_Eight summers old Leander hadn’t known how dire his situation had been at the time. All he had known was that he was sick and he wanted it all to just stop hurting for one moment. His Mother had been permitted to nurse him and her hand on his forehead had been blessedly cool, her voice a calming balm on his frayed nerves._

_Eight summers old Leander hadn’t known that, when his mother had to leave the room to fetch clean linen and more water as the servants refused to step foot in the sick room, Kaldir took the opportunity to enter the room in order to see him._

_Even at twelve summers old, Kaldir had those deep solem eyes that the ladies of the court sighed over, but now they were full of fear when they gazed upon Leander’s wretched form._

_And it was in that room, with the two of them alone, Leander gravely ill and Kaldir terrified of losing him, that Kaldir broke every vow he had made to the sun priests and performed the forbidden magick. Magick that he had found in the books that had been forbidden by the sun priests yet chose to keep them in their secret archives. Books that Kaldir had stolen to read when he wasn’t supervised by his tutors._

_He bound Leander’s rapidly dwindling life force to his by spilling their blood and mixing it together while chanting his desire into it. He had effectively brought Leander back from the brink of death and already the burning sickness was beginning to ease._

_Kaldir reached out to hold Leander’s smaller hand in his own, their fingers entwining together. He bent down and pressed a lingering kiss to Leander’s sweaty forehead and then he left the room before he was caught._

_Leander slept on without being any the wiser._


	5. Chapter Five

The sheer agony that coursed through his body and rendered him almost senseless abatted for a just a moment, allowing him to understand the conversation being had above his writhing body. 

“Why the hell is he screaming like that?! What have you done to him?”

“For Gods sake Torin, keep ahold of him! There is only room enough for one hysterical person in this house and it certainly isn’t you.”

“You’re killing him, Alara. Stop it!”

“Something is blocking me, I can’t break it-”

The wave of agony took him again, rolling him over and over until he didn’t know which way was up. 

* * *

Darkness.

Everything was in a state of pitch black around him. Silent and still, like a void of nothingness that stretched on and on from all sides. He felt no pain, no discomfort, only a certain calm that started from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. The absence of it almost made him feel euphoric and he floated in the current, unresistant.

_Is this death? Did the connection break and I died from the backlash?_

“You’re not dead. Far from it, in fact.”

His surroundings suddenly changed with the intruding voice. Leander was no longer in that black void but an open field of long golden wheat grass that moved like waves of an ocean in the wind. It was night time still and the temperature had dropped so that his breath misted in the air before him. The dark made it difficult to discern any familiar landmarks, so that Leander had no idea where he was. Or even if any of what he was seeing was real and not a dream of his making. 

“You’ve been rather wayward as of late, dear brother,” Kaldir said behind him and Leander stiffened in surprise, spinning to face him. 

Kaldir stood leaning against the trunk of a tree that bordered the field, his arms were crossed in front of his chest, pose calm and relaxed. Behind him were a group of men making camp around an already burning campfire. They were still dressed in their black armour and Leander recognised them to be Kaldir’s personal guard. 

They made no covert glances at them, which allied Leander’s fears a little. Leander wasn’t physically there as his body was back in Alara’s cottage, so whatever Kaldir had done to bring his corporeal body meant that only Kaldir could see him. He wouldn’t be able to harm Leander without his physical body being present.

“How am I here?” Leander asked and was proud to note his voice didn’t shake. 

“I called and you came.” Kaldir replied simply, which didn’t answer his question at all. 

Kaldir pushed off from the tree and stalked towards him, a frenzied light in his eyes. “You left the castle without so much as a goodbye, you willfully ignored my orders to come back home and now I find out you have sought out a shaman to break our bond. If I had less of an ego, I would think you were trying to get away from me.”

Leander wanted to dance back out of reach but anger made him stay his ground, meeting those eyes with a look of his own. “That’s self preservation at work for you.” Leander said archly. “And bond? Is that what you call it? I call it a leash. I am not your dog, Kaldir.”

Kaldir stopped within inches of Leander, staring down at him unblinkingly. He was a good head of height taller than Leander and broader in the chest and shoulders too, so being this close made Leander feel incredibly small and vulnerable. 

And being this close to him meant that Leander could see something was wrong with him. He was paler than usual and there was sweat at his hairline and across his upper lip. Shadows played under his eyes. He looked tired and drawn, thinner in the face so that the bones of his cheeks stood out in sharp relief. 

Kaldir sneered. “I did it to save your life! You were dying of the burning sickness and I wasn't about to lose the only person I considered my true family.”

Leander reeled from Kaldir’s confession, the breath being punched out of his lungs. Kaldir had never shown so much of his inner self to Leander before and though he tried to find the lie in it, he couldn’t.

Leander fought desperately to cling to his anger. “You did it to win the throne for yourself. You’ve always known I wasn’t strong enough to be crowned, I just don’t have what it takes. I never wanted it in the first place.” A thought suddenly crossed his mind, one that should have taken priority over everything, and he voiced it. “What of Ennis? Is he still alive?”

Kaldir waved off the question impatiently, like it was of no importance. “Ennis is dead, as I said he would be. It’s just you and me now.”

Leander couldn’t bring himself to feel sorry for Ennis or his brother. They had taken great delight in tormenting him as they grew up. Their deaths only meant that there was nothing standing in Kaldir’s way to the throne other than Leander himself. 

Leander’s eyes shifted to the men behind them. It would explain why Kaldir was out in the country with his personal guard. They were on the hunt.

Leander swallowed reflexively. “The shaman said I was bound to you for life and you could always feel where I was, regardless of where I went in the world. There’s no getting away from you, is there? Not without killing us both.” 

Kaldir considered him for a moment and Leander figured he was weighing his words before he spoke. “You lay a lot of accusations at my door. But you forget I was only twelve when I bound you to me. At fourteen, the ascension to the throne was very little on my mind. It might as well happen to another person, a fictional story to put us to sleep for bedtime. My only thought was of keeping you with me no matter the cost.” He smiled bitterly. “And now you are trying to seperate us for good.”

Leander gritted his teeth. “I’m trying to stay alive, Kaldir. I don’t want to die.”

Kaldir’s hands shot out and gripped Leander by the shoulders and yanked him close, and for one breathtaking moment, Leander thought Kaldir was going to kiss him. “Killing you is the furthest thing from my mind. Haven’t you figured that out already?”

An intense unreadable look stole over Kaldir’s features, his eyes darting down to snag on Leander’s parted lips. He seemed to sway forward, dipping his head down and Leander’s stomach swooped and tightened with an unknown emotion. He felt hot all over, spine tingling and his breathing growing heavy. Waiting. He was frozen in the moment, unsure of what he should do - 

Kaldir hissed a breath through his clenched teeth, pain suffusing his face and he let go of Leander like he had been burned. Leander stumbled back on trembling legs before he righted himself and stared cautiously at Kaldir who had his eyes closed, the muscles in his neck straining. “What’s the matter?”

Kaldir laughed hoarsely. “Your shaman is tenacious, I'll give her that.” He took slow deep breaths, before his muscles eased and he opened his eyes once again. “But of the two of us, I have the stronger will. I have more to lose, after all. I will not back down.”

Leander swallowed around the hard lump in his throat. “Please,” he begged softly. “Just let me go. I’m not a threat to you, we both know it. I’ll leave Nasria for good. I don’t want the throne, you already know this. You can tell the sun priests you killed me and no one will question it. How could they? No one will dare challenge your claim to the throne.”

Kaldir stayed silent, just staring at Leander until Leander started to fidget with discomfort at the look. Kaldir finally spoke. “When you beg like that, I find it nigh on impossible to say no to you.”

Leander’s heart lifted at those words, but it came crashing down at the next utterance. 

“But I can’t let you go. I won’t.”

Leander closed his eyes and his face crumpled. “For Gods sake, Kaldir. I’m no threat to you!”

Gentle hands cupped Leander’s face, making Leander jump at the touch and his eyes flew open wide. “I’m not letting you go, Leander,” he said again for emphasis. “I have no intention of killing you or harming you. I want you back home, safe and sound with me.”

Leander wanted to believe that Kaldir was saying, he really did. It was the assurance that he had desperately sought for since the moment their father had passed away. He didn’t know quite how much until Kaldir had uttered the words. 

“If you don’t plan on killing me, then what do you want?”

Kaldir’s hands tightened on his face, pulling them closer so that their foreheads touched and they were practically breathing each other’s air. Kaldir opened his mouth to speak but Leander never got to hear what he was about to say.

He felt a sharp tug at his naval and he gasped at the feel of it. It tugged again, this time harder, and Leander doubled over with pain, hugging his stomach like he could protect himself from the sensation. 

“Leander,” Kaldir stepped towards him, reaching out for him but by then it was too late. The darkness came rushing back like a tidal wave and he was washed away from his brother and into the void.

* * *

“Leander!”

Leander blinked awake and found himself back on the table and staring up into the worried face of Torin. He licked his dry lips and croaked, “What happened?”

“That’s what I would like to know,” he said and moved out of the way to let Alara see to him.

She looked exhausted, her skin sallow and her hair falling out of her braid, some flyaways sticking to the damp skin of her forehead.

Leander didn’t even have to ask, her face said it all. “It didn’t work.”

She shook her head. “I’m sorry, Prince. I’ve never felt power like his before. He overwhelmed me.”

“So that’s it then?” Torin asked after a beat of silence. 

“So it seems,” Leander answered, completely at a loss for words. Every muscle screamed at him if he so much as twitched, a bone deep weariness settling into his bones. He stared up at the ceiling, face blank and mind racing over everything. 

What had Kaldir been about to say before they parted?

* * *

When Alara removed the ties from around his hands, feet and torso, Leander noticed the livid red marks from where he had been pulling at them. They were a stark contrast to his pale skin and throbbed to the beat of his heart. 

He stared at the pattern of them for a long moment, before he tugged the sleeves of his tunic down to hide them from sight. 

Alara poured a cup of water from a ceramic jug and shoved it under his nose. “Here, drink this. It will make you feel better.”

Leander did as he was told and drank it down in big gulps, belatedly realising that the water had a medicinal taste to it, though not entirely unpleasant. “What is it?” He asked hoarsely.

“Not poison, if that’s what you're asking,” she said without any real offense. She pushed the cup to his lips again. “Just a painkiller for your throat and bruised skin. You nearly screamed the place down.”

Leander blushed with mortification. “Sorry,” he mumbled before drinking the last of it. 

“Don’t be sorry. I said it was going to be painful. Now you know I wasn’t lying to you.”

Leander gave her back the cup with a soft thank you. She smiled wanly as she took it back and filled it with more water from the jug and drank deeply herself, hardly pausing for breath. 

Torin stood silently by the table, just watching them both with a shuttered expression. Leander glanced at him from under his lashes and noted the heavy brow that often meant troubled thoughts. Leander didn’t like the look of it, it reminded him of a lost boy trying to figure out what to do next. The man always knew what to do in any given situation and to now see that look on his face was jarring. 

Torin noticed Leander looking at him and his face closed off completely. “If it’s alright with Alara, we’ll stay here for the night. You’re too exhausted to do anymore travelling and it's night out. Best not risk any accidents.”

“Your soldiers have to stay outside,” Alara said implacably. “They don’t like my kind and I won't have that kind of energy stinking up my home.”

Torin nodded his acquiescence. “They will keep watch outside,” he promised her. Looking at Leander, he said, “I’ll tell them what has happened here. Tomorrow we will think of our next course of action. A night of sleep will clear our heads and offer the best solution.”

He left the cottage before Leander could form a reply and Leander stared at the closed door with growing trepidation. What exactly was there to talk about? They weren’t able to sever the connection so no matter where they try to go, Kaldir would always be one step behind them. Torin and the rest of the guards would put up an honorable fight in the name of their Prince and get slaughtered for their troubles. They won’t be shown mercy.

Leander thought of Torin dying in that manner and it made Leander shudder with revulsion. It didn’t bear thinking about. 

_“I’m not letting you go, Leander. I have no intention of killing you or harming you. I want you back home, safe and sound with me.”_

Did Kaldir really mean that? The succession had always been one brother ascending the throne and all the rest having to die so no faction can rise up and usurp the throne, causing economic and civil unrest and ultimately destabilising the country. If Kaldir was King and Leander remained alive and in sight of the Court, what would happen then? The sun priests wouldn’t allow such a thing to be borne and the Court would be in an uproar. 

But did any of that matter at this point? There were other lives at stake now, not just Leander’s, and Leander couldn’t bear the thought of any of them dying because of him. 

“He’s a chivalrous person, our Torin,” Alara remarked as she fell into a chair, a loud sigh escaping her as she stretched out her legs in front of her. She looked pale and exhausted. If she rested her head against the chair, she would probably drift off to sleep. “One could say it’s almost a fault in his personality. If you’re worried he will abandon you now, he won’t.”

“That’s not what I was worried about,” Leander replied. He shuffled forward so he was now sitting on the edge of the table, his legs dangling over it. “The exact opposite, actually.” 

Leander looked up at Alara and she was already looking at him with those sharp eyes of hers. “Why would a Prince care about the lives of a few soldiers sworn to his protection? I would have thought soldiers were expendable to royalty.”

She spoke with frankness, without any subservience in her tone. Leander wasn’t used to that frankness but it was refreshing. He got the feeling that she was an honest person who wouldn’t lie to his face, even if the truth would cut him or endanger her life in the process. 

“Contrary to popular belief, being a Prince can be unbearably lonely.” He stopped, considered saying no more, but thought against it. “I didn’t have many friends growing up. Nobody wanted to waste effort on a vessel that had no chance at becoming anything more than a dead man walking. Torin was different, he was one of the only consistencies of my life. He was my captain of my guard since the day I was born. He could have changed loyalties to one of my brothers when I showed myself lacking, but he didn’t, despite Ennis’ best efforts to the contrary. While he may pretend I'm the biggest pain in his ass, I think Torin is the closest thing I have to a real friendship.”

Alara tilted her head to the side, studying him. “You know, that’s the saddest, most depressing thing I have heard in a long time and that’s saying something.”

Leander couldn’t help but smile at her. “Which part? The loneliness or Torin being my only friend?”

“Both,” she said with a smile before growing serious again. “And what of Kaldir? What are you to each other?”

Her perfectly innocent question made him think back to that almost kiss and he flushed uncomfortably, that strange stirring in the pit of his stomach back again. “He was the only brother I actually liked. The other two - well, they enjoyed telling me in great detail what would happen to me once our father passed away.”

“Not Kaldir.” She prompted.

“No,” Leander said softly. “Not Kaldir. He tried to protect me from it. When he could, anyway.”

Alara opened her mouth to say something else, but she was interrupted by Torin coming back in from outside. If it was possible, he looked even more perturbed than he did before he left. “Nothing is amiss. The horses have been fed and watered and the men have managed to barter for bread and cheese from one of the nearby farms.”

Leander didn’t buy the assurances. “What’s wrong?”

Torin’s reply was too quick in coming. “Nothing, Prince. You should eat something and get your head down-”

“Torin.”

Torin deflated at his tone. “Two of the guards are missing. It seems they left while we were preoccupied.”

The news should have made Leander feel worse than he already did but it didn’t. It was understandable that they would escape while they could and Leander couldn’t really blame them for doing it. They knew what was coming for all of them, after all. _I would have done the same if i was in their shoes_ , Leander thought. 

“This doesn’t change anything,” Torin assured him and Leander got the impression that he was saying that to reassure himself just as much as Leander. “In fact, it’ll speed us up if anything. Derwin and Clay were the slowest riders out of the six.”

It changed everything, but Leander didn’t voice his opinion aloud. He smiled instead. “Of course. Tomorrow, we will make our plans.”

“I have spare blankets for you to use,” Alara offered. “The chairs are not ideal for much sleep but they will be better than the stone floor.”

“Thank you,” Leander said with feeling. “For all you tried to do.”

“It didn’t do you much good though, did it?”

Leander shrugged. “It was a small chance to begin with. You tried to help me, that’s the main thing.”

Alara nodded. “You’re welcome. I have broth on the boil, if you two are interested. It’s not much, but something tells me you two haven’t had a hot meal in a while.”

“Yes please,” Torin said, coming forward eagerly. For a moment, at least, the man’s troubles had been lifted by the chance of something different than beef jerky filling his stomach. 

Leander dropped the smile when their backs were turned, his eyes roving to the door. There was no point in waiting for tomorrow to make a plan. He had already come to the decision on what he was going to do and Torin wasn’t going to like it. 


	6. Chapter Six

After the broth had been portioned out and eaten with soft bread rolls and real butter, they all called it a night and went to sleep. Torin was in a chair, Leander took the table and Alara retired upstairs to her room. 

The room was dark save for the soft glow of the banked fire and Leander could just make out Torin’s face, the deep lines smoothed out in slumber. He looked at least a decade younger like that. He was hunched over with his blanket pulled tight to his chin, his bulk making the position he wast look uncomfortable. 

Leander stared at him for a long time, committing that face to memory. After today, he wouldn’t be seeing him again. 

The cottage was quiet and Leander felt confident enough that his departure would go unnoticed. Peeling the blanket off of him and sliding quietly off the table, Leander padded on silent feet to where his travelling cloak was hung and his boots unlaced by the door. The boots were easy enough to slide his feet into without hopping about and he kept the cloak over his arm. 

The door was a little trickier. It had a heavy metal latch that Leander slowly eased out of the joint. There was an ominous click and Leader glanced guiltily over his shoulder at Torin, worried that it had woken him up, but he was still dead to the world. 

Leander tugged the door open, making the smallest space possible to fit through before he was finally outside and he shut it as quietly as he could. Here he was safe enough to lace up his boots and pulled the cloak over his shoulders and tied it at his neck. 

Making his way past the boundary wall, Leander made for the outcrop where the horses had been tethered for the night. He stopped short when he saw a guard with the horses, staring straight at him. 

Fear made Leander freeze like a deer caught before a speeding carriage and they stared at each other from across the distance separating them. Any moment now the guard will raise the alarm and Torin would come storming out in all of his furious glory. 

But the guard didn’t raise the alarm. He watched Leander with that bland face that soldiers were so good at, the awkward silence stretching between them, before he turned to Leander’s brown mare and untethered her reins. Murmuring softly to her, he calmly walked her forward to where Leander was standing. 

Leander took the proffered reigns with numb fingers. The only thing he thought to say was, “Torin wouldn’t understand.”

The guard nodded. “It’s been an honour serving you, Prince. I’ll pray for you.”

_I’m going to need it_ , he thought. Leander inclined his head gratefully at the words before he turned and led the horse away. He was not brave enough to swing himself up and ride away in case the sound of thundering hooves was too loud in the silent village and bring unwanted attention. He followed the path they had come earlier that day, his eyes slowly adjusting to the lack of light, his steps becoming more confident. 

“Out for a nighttime horse ride, Prince?” Alara asked and Leander had to literally stifle a cry of alarm as he whirled around to face her. 

“I thought you were sleeping,” Leander accused her breathlessly, his fear robbing him of the breath in his lungs.

She was standing a few feet behind him, her features cast in deep shadow. “I was, until I heard the door open.”

Leander was impressed, despite his being caught out in his escape. “Good hearing.”

Alara shrugged her shoulders. “I’m a light sleeper. I looked out the window and saw the soldier give you the horse. I figured I should come and investigate.”

Leander really didn’t have time for this. Minutes were being wasted just standing around here. It meant that Torin, if he decided to come after him, had a real chance of catching up and putting a stop to Leander’s foolhardy plan. “You should go back inside, it’s cold out here.”

“You’re going to your brother, aren’t you?”

Leander thought about lying to her, but thought better of it. He wasn’t the most accomplished liar and, besides, it was pretty obvious what he was doing out in the dead of night. “I have no real way of knowing what Kaldir wants. If it's killing me like Torin and our country’s history says or something else entirely, like you seem to think. But either way, Torin and the rest of my guards will die if they stay with me. Kaldir will make sure of it and I can't have that on my conscience.”

“So you’ll steal away in the night without a proper parting?” The tone wasn’t accusatory, merely questioning, but heat rose in Leander’s cheeks anyway. It hit too close to a raw nerve. 

Leander scowled at her. “Can you honestly see Torin letting me go without him? As you said, he’s a chivalrous man to a fault. It’s better this way.”

Alara came closer and shrugged her shoulders carelessly. “Well, far be it for a simple shaman like me to meddle in the affairs of Princes. I won’t stop you from doing what you think is right but I hope that you know what you're getting yourself into.”

He had no clue what he was getting himself into, but Leander knew he was making the right choice and that was what counted. It had been a fairytale to think he could simply traverse the sea and make his escape to another country to live his life as a normal person. Reality, like most medicines, was a bitter pill to swallow. “You’ll look after him, won’t you? He’s going to be lost at the beginning, not being a Captain anymore. But I saw the way he looked at you and, after a while, I'm sure he will be happy here. With you.”

Alara scoffed. “What makes you think I want him here?”

“Because you look at him the same way he looks at you.”

She blinked, pulled up short by his frankness. After a while, she let out a breath. “If he will let me. He’s a stubborn man when he wants to be. But I'm glad to have met you, Prince. I’ll keep you in my thoughts.”

“I’m glad to have met you too,” Leander said with a smile and turned back to his path. He felt her eyes on him until he crested the ridge and disappeared from her sight. 

* * *

Leaving the cottage undeterred was about as far as Leander got in his plan of what to do next. He had a vague notion that if he retraced the way they had come, then Kaldir would know exactly where he would be. 

As the distance between Leander and Torin grew, the realities of travelling alone in an area he hardly knew in the first place was starting to set in. While his eyes had adjusted to the night, he kept jumping at the deep shadows on either side of the dirt road and Leander was sorely aware that he wasn’t armed to fend off anyone who took a liking to his horse or his good quality cloak. 

He kept up a good pace, the horse seeming to pick up on his tension and not putting up much of a fuss as they pushed on. They stayed that way until dawn broke and they rested at a crossroads, the horse grazing on the grass and Leander nibbling on the hard bread he found in one of the saddlebags he had left there the precious day. 

The next two days were much of the same, Leander picking out recognisable scenery and following the route. He rested where he could, keeping out of sight from large parties of people he didn’t like the look of. He found running water to fill up his flask and stopped at small farmsteads for food in return for the little coin he had in his pocket. 

All the while he was drawing closer to Kaldir. He felt the tension leaving his body, like a great weight was being slowly lifted off of his shoulders. He didn’t know if it was because he had made a decision and whatever happens is out of his hands, or it was to do with the binding. Either way, his muscles began to ease and he sat straighter in his saddle, his mind clearer than ever. 

_Is this your doing?_ Leander wandeed but he didn’t get a reply. He felt silly for trying. 

It was the mid afternoon of the second day when Leander got a flash of a vision, a large dark wooden barn in the middle of a pasture field, the double doors painted a dark green that bordered on black. Leander blinked, pulling on the reins to stop the horse so he wouldn't slip from the saddle and break something. He blinked rapidly, trying to see past the vision, but it remained fixed in his mind’s eye, like staring into the sun for too long. He suddenly smelt sandalwood and spice, Kaldir’s cologne, the scent as strong as if his brother stood right beside him. 

Leander took the hint. The vision was sent so he knew where he was supposed to go and that Kaldir would be waiting for him. 

The image finally faded and he was able to see the road again. He was dimly aware that he and Torin had passed that particular barn before, so he knew he was on the right path after all. His anxiety kicked up a notch but he pressed on. 

There was no going back now. 

* * *

Leander reached the barn just as night fell. As his horse clopped over the incline, a figure stepped out of the gathering darkness and Leander froze in his seat, his horse snorting in alarm and pawing at the ground as he stopped. He was so close to yanking on the reigns and making a break for it at the slightest provocation. 

The man came forward and reached out with a hand, gripping the reins of the horse. Leander recognised him to be Captain Eiran of Kaldir’s guard. This knowledge didn’t ease Leander’s discomfort, his mind bringing back the memory of his flight out of the castle, Captain Eiran’s sword slick with blood. 

“Prince,” he said smoothly, making sure the horse and rider couldn’t bolt from him for a second time. “The King is expecting you.”

Captain Eiran was at least a decade younger than Torin and a lot less bulky in body type than the other man. Instead, he had the body shape of a dueller, long and lean with whipcord muscles in the biceps and legs. He was of middling height but still at least a half a head taller than Leander. 

He was the best soldier with a rapier sword at the castle, unbeaten in the last six years since Kaldir had promoted him to the rank of Captain. The rapier he used had a jewelled pommel and was now resting at his hip, unsheathed. Leander eyed it warily. 

The Captain caught the look. “You are not to be harmed by anyone under King Kaldir’s command. You have his solemn promise, as long as you come unresistant.”

Leander could only nod his head in understanding. It was a carefully worded assurance, _anyone under King Kaldir’s command_. It didn’t stretch to Kaldir himself. And why should it? Kings were beholden to no one, especially not to their brothers. 

Eiran glanced behind Leander, his eyes flicking from one spot to the next. “And where is your guard? Am I to make provisions for your own Captain?”

“That won’t be necessary,” Leander said, his chin tipping up as Eiran’s attention returned to him. “I no longer travel with my guard. You or your men will be troubled on that score.”

Eiran paused, reading between the lines of Leander’s words. “As you say,” he said finally and Leander’s finders relaxed from their stranglehold on the reins. 

Captain Eiran turned back and walked the horse towards the barn with unhurried steps. As they drew nearer, Leander could make out Kaldir’s men lounging in front of the open doors, awaiting their arrival. Torches were lit inside the barn and the light poured out like a welcome beacon and lit up the men and their hungry expressions of anticipation. They grinned at Leander but said nothing to him, speaking in quiet tones to each other.

They are waiting for a show, like they must have gotten with the deaths of Atherton and Ennis. Oh Gods, what had he walked himself into?

Captain Eiran stopped and, with a little prompting, Leander slid down from his horse to the ground. He could only be relieved that he didn’t fall on his face in the mud or his legs shake like a newborn colt in front of these hateful men. Any weakness he showed would simply be fuel to their fire. He looked weak enough as it was without being clumsy.

He turned his face up to Eiran. “I’m ready to see him,” he said quietly. 

Eiran nodded and held his arm out to the Barn’s entrance in invitation. Leander steeled his nerves, his back straightening, and entered the barn. He had fully expected Eiran and the men to pile in after them but they didn’t. In fact, Eiran shut the doors after him, the sound of wood against wood grating against each other made him involuntarily flinch away. 

“I can hear your heartbeat,” came a voice further in the barn and Leander whirled back to face the room.

It was an old hay barn, used to keep crops safe and dry rather than for livestock. Great bales of hay were stacked neatly by the opposite wall. Barrels of what looked to be grain were stacked upon each other and off to the sides. The smell was fresh and woody, pleasant to Leander’s senses after the crisp cold from outside. 

Kaldir sat lounging on one of the hay bails, one leg propped up on the thigh of the other, his arms spread out over the back of the hay bail. He was out of his armour and in his black undershirt, the top unlaced showing a healthy amount of tanned chest, the start of a pale scar at his collarbone that he had received whilst jousting as a teenager. 

He looked like he sat on the throne, Leander thought. Like it's perfectly normal for a King to be resting in a barn atop some hay bales instead of a seat of burnished gold.  
  
“I can hear your heartbeat,” he repeated when their eyes met and held. “Like a rabbit drumming its foot on the floor to announce a predator is close to its colony.”

Leander wanted to drop his eyes to the floor in subjugation, but something inside himself said that to do so would be a very bad idea. The rabbit analogy was apt as there was a wolf staring back at him through Kaldir’s eyes, something predatory shifting behind them, and if it sensed his capitulation, it would not be appeased.

Instead, it would grow so very hungry at such a sight.

“The soldiers at the door with their swords drawn tend to make me a little nervous,” Leander ventured cautiously.

The answering amile was slow and indulgent. “And where are your soldiers with their swords? Are they lying in wait nearby, ready to slaughter my men and I at your command?”

“I left my men behind,” Leander answered. “I took heed of your warning and thought it pointless for them to die just because they had the bad luck to be sworn to me. They deserved to live a life of a civilian far away from the capital than to end up a dead soldier on one of your pikes.”

_Don’t hunt them down_ , was left unsaid. 

Kaldir watched him. “Torin always did have a soft spot for you. He practically growled at me if I got too close to his beloved Prince. Are you saying he was perfectly fine with you riding out to meet me on your own, with your fate in my hands?”

Leander’s lips tightened at that. “He didn’t have a choice in the matter.”

“Even at the end, you act the magnanimous Princeling,” Kaldir said and Leander bristled at the condescending tone. 

“I did as you bid. It was you that wanted me here, wasn’t it?”

“Most ardently,” Kaldir answered softly and there was a whole world of meaning behind those words that made Leander short of breath. “My Captain thinks you came back with the idea of stabbing me in the back. Quite literally.”

Leander’s mouth went dry, his heart kicking up a notch. Would he listen to Eiran’s warnings over him? “I think we both know that the only threat in this barn is you. Besides, even if I somehow could stab you, I wouldn’t get within three feet from the door without your men cutting me down.”

“Killing me would make you King,” Kaldir pointed out.

Leander laughed but there was no humour in it. “Your men call you King already. They wouldn’t abide me taking your place on the throne. No one would.”

“Smart boy,” Kaldir said and leant forward, his arms dropping down from their perch on the heybale to rest on his knees. Those eyes glittered in the flickering light of the torches, dark and bottomless. “Now, take off your cloak.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update Notice: The UK is coming out of lockdown on the 2nd December, which means I will be working seven days a week for the run up to Christmas. I really can't say how this will effect my update schedule, especially with the added bonus of pandemic stress on an already stressful time of year for me, but I will try my best to get updates out in a timely manner. Apologies for this, I know it can be a bummer when you are waiting around for an Author to get their butt into gear, but I hope you can understand.


	7. Chapter Seven

It took a moment for his words to register, the abrupt change of subject forcing Leander’s brain to switch gears quickly, and Leander frowned in confusion. “I - Why?”

“I want to make sure you’re not carrying a weapon on your person,” Kaldir replied, that focus never letting up. “Can’t be too careful, afterall.” 

“I’m not carrying any weapons on me, you have my word,” Leander said, the very idea of taking his cloak off in front of Kaldir made him feel uncomfortable. The cloak was certainly no armour, it couldn’t protect him against a sharp blade to his side, but to take it off would leave Leander feeling incredibly vulnerable to that gaze. 

Had Kaldir always looked at him like that? Leander couldn’t recall.

“Then you wouldn’t mind proving my Captain wrong, would you?” Kaldir returned in an amicable manner. Indeed, what was the harm?

And still Leander hesitated to do as he was bid. Kaldir’s hands clenched into fists on his knees and it felt like the temperature in the room dropped by ten degrees at the very least. Leander couldn’t help but shiver.

“Leander.” Kaldir’s voice cracked like a whip, the voice losing all amiability, and Leander couldn’t help but flinch back a step, like he expected a strike to the face. “Take the cloak off before I come over there and do it for you.”

Leander bowed his head in resignation and brought his shaking hands up to the fastening of the cloak at his neck and untied it, all the while he felt the weight of expectation on it. After several fumbling attempts, the cloak finally came free and he let it slip from his shoulders to pool around his feet on the floor. He kept his eyes down, waiting for the next command to further his humiliation, but no command came. 

He stood there, motionless in the middle of the barn, skin prickling with icy awareness and Kaldir made no sound. What was he doing? What was he thinking? No longer able to bear the loaded silence that fell between them, Leander chanced a glance up at his brother from under his lowered eyelashes and he realised Kaldir was simply taking his time with looking at him, a slow perusal from Leander’s head to his booted feet.

Leander’s gut squeezed with slow dawning horror. Brothers don’t look at each other like that-

“Turn around.”

Leander started at the voice, huskier than it usually was and this time he didn’t hesitate in obeying. Anything to look away from the dark hunger in those eyes. With his arms out by his sides, he turned slowly, as if any faster would shatter the odd tension between them and Kaldir would resort to doing… what?

Something. Something that made Leander’s legs tremble and threaten to spill him on the ground in a heap. 

He finally stopped with his back to Kaldir, facing the shut doors of the barn. Despite knowing how utterly useless it would be to attempt, he yearned to have the speed and strength to ram the doors open and flee into the night, knocking the soldiers out of the way as he did so.

But no matter how much speed or strength he had, it would do him no good. Kaldir could use his telekinesis and pin him to the floor without so much as lifting a finger. He could crush Leander with his power and Leander could do nothing about it but writhe on the floor and cry for mercy. If he had any breath left to do so, that is. 

_Remember why you are doing this in the first place. Think of Torin, think of Alara, think of those who protected you all your life thus far. Think of them remaining alive and happy and away from Kaldir and the influence of the throne._

The air shifted behind Leander and before he had a chance to react, he felt a gentle pressure at the nape of his neck, no more than a pinprick of feeling. It traced his spine downwards, a slow unhurried progresion. A finger tip, Leander belatedly realised. 

Leander stood stockstill, barely breathing for fear of a reprisal. He hadn’t heard Kaldir so much as move from his spot, no rustle of the hay or his clothes, no sound of steps on the floor. He had been utterly silent and that thought, more than anything so far, sent a shock of fear through his body. Kaldir could do anything to him and Leander would be utterly powerless to defend himself.

“No weapons here,” Kaldir mused right by his ear and Leander jumped. He hadn’t known the other man had been standing so close to him. 

“I wouldn’t lie to you,” Leander said flatly, starting to turn around but Kaldir’s palm flattened on his lower back, preventing him from doing so. Leander stayed right where he was without protest.

The hand remained in place, even after Leander was still again. His touch was hot through the thin material of Leander’s tunic, the span of the hand large enough that it could touch hip bone to hip bone. Kaldir could grip him by both of his hands and they would encircle Leander’s waist easily. The thought had Leander shivering involuntarily. 

“You couldn’t lie to me even if you wanted to,” Kaldir murmured, mouth still impossibly close to the shell of his ear, his lips close to brushing skin.

“Because I’m such a terrible liar?”

The reply was instantaneous, brimming with confidence. “Because I know _you_ and there is nothing you could hide from me.”

Leander’s cheeks flushed with irritation, and he tried to pull away to gain some of his personal space back. The hand at his back fell away to suddenly grip the front of his throat. It didn’t hurt exactly, Kaldir didn’t squeeze, but it was unquestionably firm and caused Leander to tilt his head back so he didn’t put unnecessary pressure on his windpipe. The movement meant he was now pressed up against Kaldir’s chest, his head resting on the other man’s shoulder. Kaldir’s arm was practically wrapped around him to grip the front of Leander’s throat, a simile of an intimate embrace between lovers.

Leander’s hands automatically came up to latch onto Kaldir’s wrist, attempting to prise the hand away but the hold was implacable. If he was to make a serious attempt to get away, Leander would no doubt hurt himself in the attempt. 

“Don’t,” Kaldir said in a low warning tone and Leander’s hands fell away to hang uselessly by his sides. 

“You shouldn’t have run from the castle,” Kaldir said and for the first time that night there was pure rage in his voice. “I sent Eiran to you to take you to me safely. You've caused me a great deal of hassle and expense for no reason other than your own folly.”

“Do we really have to go through this again?” Leander murmured, a spike of defiance he was unable to suppress. “I didn’t know that was your intention, I thought he was there to kill me.”

The hand around his neck tightened, cutting Leander’s words off with a choking sound. His hands rose of their own volition and he caught himself before he made another mistake that could cost him his life. 

“When have I ever given you the impression that I wanted you dead?” Kaldir asked with derision in his voice. 

Leander remembered the time when he had been taking confession with the Head Sun Priest, a man named Septus who had a perpetual sneering expression on his wrinkled face, like he had bit into a particularly sharp lemon. He seemed to take great joy in punishing Leander over the slightest of infractions, making him kneel on the cold flagstone of the Holy Temple for hours on end, reciting scripture until his brain went to mush inside his skull and he lost the feeling in his legs. 

And when they were alone, when no one could hear Septus’ calm droning words, he would tell Leander in great lurid detail how previous generations of unworthy Princes of the various Houses had died by their brother’s hands. How Kaldir would be the one to take his life without a second thought, that he would revel in such a deed.

“There is no brotherhood between Princes,” he had said with such satisfaction that it made Leander want to rip the precious scrolls of handwritten scriptures up and set them on fire, just to see the look on the old man’s horrified face. He had not known such rage inside him before and the feeling had stopped him from ever doing something he would come to regret. “Gullible weak Princes are often the first ones to be dispatched to the underworld.”

All of what he thought was too much to say now when Leander could hardly draw a deep enough breath, so he simply wheezed out, “Sun priests.”

“Sun priests,” Kaldir repeated and the derision deepened to a great disgust. “They are nothing more than old men drunk on the power that their faith and outdated tradition has given to them. Their power has never extended as far as the throne, no matter what they may say to the contrary.”

Kaldir’s words almost bordered on heresy. Leander didn't understand what he was trying to say. Was he going to challenge the Sun priests in Leader's name? Was he going to challenge over a thousand years of Royal history so that one King and one Prince may live without killing each other?

Despite trying to quash it, a small bubble of hope rose in Leander’s chest at the thought. 

The pressure around his neck eased slightly and Leander was able to take a great gulp of air that his burning lungs sorely needed. “Kaldir-”

Kaldir turned his head so that his lips brushed the shell of Leander’s ear, speaking directly into it. “While I appreciate that you came back to me instead of making me chase you all the way to the coast, how am I supposed to trust you when you could simply try to run again?”

Leander’s breaths came out in short pants, from both fear and Kaldir’s hand still around his neck, an ever present threat to him. “I…”

“Especially when you actively sought out a shaman to break the bond between us. I can see the hand of Torin in that, how else would you know how to locate a shaman, but you gave your permission for it to happen,” Kaldir continued like they were having an amiable conversation at the dinner table about the weather. 

_I’m bound to you, chained to you, why would I not want to be free from that?_ But Leander said none of this, Kaldir was in no mood to hear reason. 

“What do you want me to say?” Leander asked instead. “That I’m sorry? That I won’t do it again? Because I won’t.”

Kaldir’s other hand grabbed Leander’s hip, pulling him back so he was flush against the length of Kaldir’s broad body. A noise of protest froze in Leander’s throat as he felt the long hard length of Kaldir’s cock pressed against the small of his back. 

“I want you to swear to me that you’ll never run from me again,” his breath was hot against the side of his face. He was starting to pant too, though for entirely different reasons. “I want you to swear to me your fealty, your undivided loyalty as your King and brother.” The hand on his hip moved, fingers dragging along his abdomen, dislodging the material of his tunic as his long fingers bunched the material up so he could get to bare skin. On that first contact, Leander whimpered out loud. He felt electrified.

He held Leander firmly like that so he couldn’t wriggle away, could only stand there, immobile like a doll, pressed tightly against him with no possible space between them. 

Kaldir spoke again, voice deep and ragged. “I want you to swear that we will never be parted from each other ever again.”

_This is wrong. This is so wrong, what was he doing, what was he saying-_

Despite what his brain was screaming against, Leander felt his body react to it, felt the yearning sweep over him like a scorching wave of pure feeling. He reacted without thinking, standing up on the tips of his toes and arch his back like a pleased cat, to grind back on the rock hard length of Kaldir, to hear the surprised intake of breath by his ear, to make Kaldir thrust forward so both of them rocked with the motion.

 _There’s something wrong with me_ , Leander thought wildly, unshed tears clouding his vision and threatening to spill down his cheeks. Kaldir was his brother, yet Leander wanted to feel Kaldir enclose him with his arms and make him feel good. 

“Swear it,” Kaldir snarled fiercely, the hand around his throat tightening again. Instead of fear that the motion should have brought, Leander felt his abdomen turn molten. “I want to hear you say it out loud.”

And he did, just like that. Because Kaldir told him to.

“I swear it. I swear my fealty and my loyalty to you, my King,” the words practically tripped over his tongue when he spoke them. He spoke in a tone that he had never heard himself use before.

It was broken, breathy, needy. He sounded wrecked and desperate. 

Kaldir’s answering groan was low, the sound vibrating in Kaldir’s chest and sending shocks of pleasure up Leander’s spine and down between his trembling legs. He closed his eyes tightly, trying to shut down outside stimulus, but it was utterly futile. He felt himself harden, shamelessly responding to Kaldir against his rapidly crumbling will.

But he didn’t have long to lament on it as Kaldir spun him around to face him and, for a brief gut wrenching moment, he saw something glint like cold steel in Kaldir’s hand and Leander tried to yank himself away on instinct.

It was a knife, Kaldir planned to kill him after all, his vow was only to humiliate him at the very end and now he was to die in a barn with soldiers laughing outside-

Kaldir yanked him back to him and the steel was held to his throat. Leander braced for the agony of the blade cutting through his flesh, for hot blood to spill down his throat to cover his chest, but none of that happened. 

Instead, he felt the cool steel against his throat, felt Kaldir wrap it around his neck and a soft ominous click as it made a perfect circle. Leander’s hand flew to his neck, fingers mapping the metal contraption all the way around, his body going cold as he realised what exactly it was he was feeling.

“It’s a collar,” he choked out. “You collared me.”

There was no lock that he could feel, no way to prise it off of him. However Kaldir had locked it, the collar was now a seamless band of steel around his throat, formed no doubt by magic and his own sheer will. 

Panic bordering on hysteria overtook Leander’s common sense and he clawed at his own neck, his nails drawing thin lines of blood on his pale skin. “Get it off!” He demanded, voice high and strained with his panic. “Kaldir, I said _get it off_!”

Kaldir gripped his upper arms and before Leander knew it, he had planted one of his feet behind Leander’s and tripped him. He landed heavily on his back, his breath whooshing out of his lungs in a pained grunt. Kaldir followed him down, knees planted on either side of Leander’s hips, towering over him. 

Leander threw his hands out, trying to ward Kaldir away but Kaldir caught them in one hand and forced them above Leander’s head against the floor. If Leander wasn’t so scared, he would have been embarrassed with how easy it was for Kaldir to subdue him.

“What happened to you fealty, dear brother?” Kaldir crooned at him.

“Please take it off,” Leander begged. “I am sworn to you, the collar isn’t needed-”

“It is needed,” Kaldir corrected, his free hand brushing over the smooth metal of the collar with loving fingers. “It’s my insurance. I have your word that you won’t run away again and now I also have the collar for if you do break your word and run, everyone in the Kingdom will see my emblem on it and know that you belong to me. There is nowhere in Nasria that you could hide from me.”

It was too much for him. Tears spilled hotly down Leander’s cheeks. “Why are you keeping me alive? What is the purpose of all of this?”

Kaldir shifted his weight back and leant over him, body curling around him so that all Leander could see and feel was him. He angled his face so that he could kiss the tail the tears had left behind on his skin. The gesture was so tender that Leander didn’t try to pull away, his gasps settling. 

Kaldir pulled back to look him in the eyes, expression serious and earnest. “After all that’s been said and done, you still don’t know?” 

Leander closed his eyes tightly. “I don’t know, I don't understand any of it. Just tell me, please.”

That wasn’t strictly true. He wasn’t as naive as he made himself out to be. He knew from the talk of soldiers that he had secretly listened in on that there were certain acts between men, acts that brought heat to Leander’s face in embarrassment and no small amount of curiosity, and Kaldir’s actions…

Leander’s mind shied away from it. 

Kaldir’s face was so close that they were practically breathing each other’s air. Leander could see the pupil’s of Kaldir’s eyes were blown wide, the black almost eclipsing the blue. “I’m stripping you of your title and rank of Prince. All of the cares and worries that go with the title will be gone from you. Instead, you’ll be with me as your mother was to my father.”

Leander’s eyes flew open at those words, his eyes searching for the jest in Kaldir’s face but there was no humour in it. He was deadly serious and all of his half-wanderings had been confirmed. 

“I can’t be your consort,” Leander said slowly, like he was speaking to a stubborn child. “Kaldir, we are brothers.”

“Half brothers,” He said, like it made all the difference in the world, and perhaps, to Kaldir, it did. “But you are no longer a Prince, I have stripped you of all rank and titles. And, in the Kingdom of Nasria, if you’re not a Prince then you are not my brother.”

It’s with those words that it finally dawned on Leander that Kaldir had been planning this since the beginning. The binding may have been to save his life, but it had the bigger repercussions of keeping Leander on Kaldir’s radar at all times. The collar fitted his neck perfectly, Kaldir must have had a metalsmith to make it with his emblem hammered into it. It would have taken longer than the scant few days, between their father’s passing and when Kaldir left the castle in search of him, to make it in the first place. And those words sounded so confident…

 _In the Kingdom of Nasria, if you’re not a Prince then you are not my brother._ How long had Kaldir pawed over legal scripture and laws to find that loophole? How long had he thought of this moment, where he could say those words out loud and put the collar around his neck? To be called King and have his brother laid at his feet? To have Leander as a consort?

Years, he thought with a touch of hysteria. This is years in the making. Every memory Leander had with Kaldir, everything that he thought he knew of his brother fell apart in that moment before being realigned anew. He looked upon it with fresh eyes, a new insight.

And, suddenly, it all made perfect sense. 


	8. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for a shorter chapter guys, I wanted to get something out to you now rather than later.
> 
> And here be the smut. I'm not gonna lie, the more I read over it the cringier it got and then I started to panic about posting it. So I'm really sorry if it's difficult to read (for more reasons than one) and I hope you forgive me. 
> 
> Enjoy I guess?

Kaldir’s hand had left the collar at Leander’s throat to idly trace the lacings of his tunic for a long moment, before taking its time sliding down the ladder of Leander’s ribs, the quivering muscles in his abdomen and finally down between his thighs to cup him there.

Leander’s breath grew short and he tried to clench his thighs together, to stop Kaldir’s hand from going any further than it already had, but it had the opposite effect. The action only served to force his hand closer, to cause delicious friction that sent heat spiralling up to his belly button and pool there, growing hotter by the second. 

Kaldir hummed his approval and Leander felt its vibration at his back. “I felt how you reacted to me when I had my hand at your throat. You like it, don’t you? You want this just as much as I do.”

That broad hand began to move between his legs and rubbed him in a slow roll of his palm. Leander couldn’t help but whimper softly at the motion. He bit his lower lip to keep from making any more noise as Kaldir repeated the gesture with more pressure, fingers stroking over the shape of him in his breeches, and it made Leander grow hard and aching. Kaldir’s touch was like a brand on his flesh and he was so hyper aware of it that nothing else filtered into his brain other than how good it felt. 

“I don’t want it,” Leander said on a strangled sob that caught in his throat. “Kaldir, stop this-”

Kaldir squeezed him through his breeches, his fingers rubbing over the sensitive head of Leander's cock. Leander felt himself getting wet at the tip, the material starting to stick to his skin. “I don’t think I will, not when it makes you sound like that. Not when you _look like that_.”

There was no let up to that direct gaze, he felt it on his skin like a physical touch. Burning, burning, _burning_ into his flesh like it was reaching into his very soul and bearing it for his slow perusal. He couldn’t get away from it- 

Leander’s whole body was as tight as a bowstring, trembling with the pleasure of it. Kaldir’s hand worked him harder, growing bolder with each slide of his hand, and Leander couldn’t stop himself from submitting to it. His thighs loosened minutely until they fell apart, hips tipping upwards for more, inviting Kaldir’s hand to all the access that he wanted. 

“Look at you,” Kaldir breathed, his voice had a fevered, reverent tone to it. His mouth was slightly parted, breath growing ragged, colour now splashed across the tanned skin of his cheekbones as he watched Leander’s face, avid, _hungry_ , his eyes dark and bottomless. “I knew you would want this, how could you not want this?”

“I don’t,” Leander protested, but it sounded weak and feeble, even to his own ears. Kaldir’s hand tightened on him again, perhaps as punishment of his denial, but the almost too tight hold that bordered on pain made him throw his head back against the floor in a cry of startled pleasure, back arching as he bucked his hips forward for more. 

Kaldir’s hands stayed where they were, one keeping Leander’s hands above his head, the other working between his thighs. He was then startled when he was suddenly aware of a phantom touch at his waist. It felt like fingertips trailing along the waistband of his breeches, feather light, almost to the point of Leander wandering if he was in fact dreaming it.

With a half questioning look to Kaldir, he saw the slow satisfied smile tugging at Kaldir’s lips before that touch grew stronger and the fabric of his tunic was being rucked up over his chest to get caught under his armpits.

Leander’s eyes grew wide as that phantom touch stroked over the sensitive skin of his ribcage before caressing his niples, one after the other. The flesh pebbled with goosebumps and he groaned loudly at the heat it sent marching through his body. It was a direct line to his cock and he throbbed heavily, precum now a steady leak in his breeches. 

“There’s more to my power than turning it into a weapon,” Kaldir said on a hum of smugness, his eyes half lidded as they trailed down the length of Leander’s torso, drinking in the sight of Leander splayed in the straw beneath him. “I knew you would be sensitive. Responsive to my touch. I just didn’t know by how much.”

The touch left his nipples, hard and aching and wanting more, and went to his waistband again. Kaldir pulled his hand away from Leander’s cock and Leander had to bite back a cry of disappointment at the loss. It was soon choked down as he watched as the fastenings were undone deftly by invisible hands and pulled apart to gape open obscenely. Cool air hit his hot flesh and it was like someone had thrown ice cold water in his face, the shock of reality overriding the pleasure.

He could not be allowing this to happen, could not allow this to continue. What could he possibly be thinking-

For the first time since this encounter had started, Leander started to struggle in earnest. “Kaldir, stop it!” He cried, voice high with alarm. His legs snapped closed, twisting his body violently around to try and dislodge Kaldir from his seat atop of him, yanking at the grip that held his wrists down to the floor. 

Kaldir snarled at the interruption, dropping his full weight down on Leander’s legs in an effort to keep him from getting away and his hand tightened around Leander’s wrists to the point that the bones grinded against each other and threatened to snap under the pressure. 

The phantom touch no longer felt like fingertips. Instead, it became bands of what felt like strong warm leather that wrapped around his arms, legs and torso, reminding him jarringly of when Alara had tied him to the table. He was now completely immobile, bound up and his chances of escape dwindling into an impossibility. 

Kaldir’s face was a mask of hard determined focus. “There were two reasons why I made the collar for you, Leander. I already told you the first reason. Do you want to know the second one?”

Leander didn’t answer, futility straining against the invisible bonds that held him in place. Gods, he was so strong!

“Because of your moral compass,” Kaldir told him anyway. “Because I knew you wouldn’t let this happen if you and I were on an equal footing as Princes. You wouldn’t be able to stand the shame of incest. With the collar at your throat and what it symbolises, it takes away the responsibility from you and transfers it all to me. A slave can’t deny the will of his master. My will is now your will, my desire is now your desire. So just. Let. Go.”

And Gods help him, he did. Kaldir’s hand was back, wrapping around the base of his cock, bare skin against bare skin, and he began to stroke in earnest, grip tight and hot. The pace was almost punishing, the hand acting as a silky sleeve for Leander to fuck up in to. There was no time for Leander to get his mental bearings, no time for his protests to start up again, only time enough for him to _feel_. To be swept away by the incredible sensations, legs once again spread of their own volition as his hips made short abrupt thrusts up into that grip. He was making a low continuous keen in the back of his throat, mouth hanging open as he panted loudly.

The phantom touch was back, stroking and pinching at his nipples, rolling the nubs until they were stiff and aching again. Leander felt himself come undone from it all. He cried out as he gave himself up to Kaldir and his touch. His balls drew up tight and the pressure built at the base of his cock until he couldn’t take anymore and it crested like a wave, pushing him over the edge and into the abyss of feeling. It was nothing short of electric and it pulled one of the most intense orgasms of Leander’s life out of him. 

His mouth was open wide in a silent scream as pleasure rushed through him, all the while Kaldir never let up with his hand, stroking him through it and twisting his hand over the head that made Leander’s legs jerk uncontrollably as he became oversensitive.

“That’s it, come on,” Kaldir crooned his encouragement as Leander painted his stomach in strips of white. He had come so hard that he hit his own chin with the force of it. 

After the orgasm had worked itself out of his system, Leander laid back on the floor in a shivering boneless wreck, staring unseeing up at the shifting shadows on the barn’s ceiling above them. He must have looked thoroughly debauched in that moment and the thought sent another shiver through him. He couldn’t deny the thought didn’t displease him. 

Kaldir kept the phantom binds around Leander’s limbs as he lifted himself up to his knees above Leander’s prone body and began tearing at his own fastenings of his breeches. His movements were almost violent in their desperation to get them undone as quickly as possible. When he finally accomplished it, he pulled his breeches down in rouch jerky motions, just enough to free himself from the confines of the material. 

Leander found himself powerless to look away. Kaldir’s cock was long and thick, far bigger than Leander’s own, and his cock was flushed a deep red, precum beading at the tip already.

He took himself in hand, stroking himself with long savage movements as he watched Leander watching him in return. The muscles in his arms and chest stood out in sharp relief as he stroked faster, muscles bunching with the movement, his breath hissing through his clenched teeth as he did so. Leander was mesmerised by the sight and he felt his cock, despite the fact that he had come already, twitch in interest at the proceedings before him. 

That flare of arousal made him turn his head into his arm, breaking the spell between them. He couldn’t block out the sound of skin against skin, the rhythmic rasp of it and Leander’s hands balled into fists, nails digging into the flesh of his palms. 

“Look at me,” Kaldir rasped and the authority in his voice was brutal. Leander was powerless to stop himself from looking back, from drinking in the picture that Kaldir made above him. “Watch me,” Kaldir ordered, his movements now unpredictable and uncoordinated with how close he was to his own release. “Don’t look away.”

Leander did as he was told, eyes glued to Kaldir’s hand wrapped around his cock. He didn’t take long to finish, his mouth dropping open on a deep guttural groan as he stripped Leander’s stomach with his own seed, his movements slowing as he coaxed himself through it. Leander flinched from the feel of it mingling with his own, but he could do nothing but watch. 

Afterwards, Kaldir fell forwards onto his knees and elbows over Lender, their faces close once more. His laboured breathing began to slow to a regular rhythm and he leaned down further to place a chaste kiss to Leander’s forehead. The action was oddly jarring in its softness compared to moments before. 

He sat up and rummaged for something behind him, coming back with Leander’s travelling cloak and, using one of the corners, he wiped Leander down of their fluids. Once that was done, he set about putting their clothes to rights and Leander allowed the manhandling, too exhausted to put up much of a fight. 

What would be the point, anyway.

When Kaldir was satisfied, he laid the cloak on the floor and settled them both on it, Leander’s back To Kaldir’s chest, his arm wrapped firmly around Leander’s waist. It put his mouth directly by Leander’s ear. “You should get some rest. Tomorrow we will be making the journey towards the Capital.” 

Leander could only do as he bid, letting his eyelids fall shut and unconsciousness claim him.

* * *

  
  
_“Hey Kaldir! Wait for me!”_

_Leander had wanted his words to be loud and to carry, ringing across the courtyard of the castle and turning the heads of the castle Knights that were training with their broadswords and their long bows on targets. He wanted to show them all that he wasn’t taken by the burning sickness like his King father had expected, that they all had expected. He wanted to show each and every one of them that Leander was still very much alive and breathing._

_But his call came to nothing more than a breathy croak, no louder than his normal talking volume would have been before. He may have beaten the burning sickness but it had robbed him of his breath, his lungs struggling to expand to what they were used to. His strength reserves were almost depleted, normal everyday tasks like walking short distances and sitting up in bed took everything he had left. He had lost weight too, his cheekbones standing out in sharp relief under his pale skin, his wrists alarmingly fragile._

_Leander’s mother hadn’t wanted to let him out of the sickbed so early on, believing him to still be too frail to return to the rigour of castle life without a serious setback, but Leander had been itching to get back to his usual routine. Boredom made him insufferable to be around, even with the books and puzzles she had brought him to keep his attention otherwise occupied. All he wanted to do was get better as quickly as possible so that he could go back to the castle and back to his regular life, even if that meant more lessons with the masters and swordplay with Torin._

_Kaldir and all the others must be so worried about him and Leander didn’t like to be the cause of his brother’s worry._

_Finally, after days of constant badgering, Leander managed to wear his Mother’s resolve down to nothing and she finally allowed him to return to the castle, having obtained the grudging permission of the King for the young Prince to do so. She helped him make his way to the courtyard, offering her arm when he tired quickly, and stood at the gates as she watched him stumble forward upon seeing Kaldir, face as serene as a mirrored surface._

_Leander didn’t think Kaldir would be able to hear his pitiful call, but Kaldir’s head snapped around to face him, the sword he had been training with falling to the floor with his inattention, metal striking concrete with a ringing clang. Their eyes connected and Kaldir’s usually sombre face lit up with the most beautiful smile Leander had ever seen on a person._

_It made Kaldir practically radiant and it took Leander’s breath away all over again, feeling his lips pull up into an answering grin. He sped up, his excitement renewing his energy as he crossed the courtyard towards his brother at a half run, who in turn left his trainer frowning after him without a backwards glance and sprinting towards Leander._

_They had crashed against each other in a fierce hug, Kaldir practically pulling Leander off of his feet in his exuberance, arms tight and face buried in his neck as he laughed wildly. Leander tried to return the embrace as best as he could under the almost crushing onslaught, chest warm with such a welcome._

_The Knights looked on with wry smiles on their faces, Leander’s mother watching her son for a few moments longer before turning away and leaving the castle (Leander didn’t know this at the time, but it would be the last time he would see her in the flesh, their only contact through written letters and gifts)._

_Leander saw nothing of this, his attention solely on Kaldir and his arms around him, his face buried in his neck._

_“I’m so glad you’re okay,” Kaldir mumbled into Leander’s neck, his voice thick with sincere emotion. His arms tightened again. “I knew you would be.”_

_Leander held Kaldir just as tightly. “Of course I would be. Did you doubt it?”_

_Kaldir shook his head minutely, but didn’t lift his face from its position. “Never.”_

_Never._


	9. Chapter Nine

Leander wakes in stages.

His mind rose slowly from the dark comforting clutch of unconsciousness, becoming gradually aware of a dull ache in his shoulders and down the length of his arms, like he had been forced to train with sword and shield by his overzealous tutors the day before. He was aware of lying on the hard ground, the material of his cloak laid out beneath him and pressed against his cheek, making his nose itch. He stretched carefully, straightening his back from his curved sleeping position on his side to the sonorous crack of his spine as discs realigned again and he sighed softly, body slumping back in relief. His eyes remained closed through it all, the tempting pull of oblivion drawing him back under.

He would have heeded that call if it weren't for that moment that he felt the arm wrapped loosely around his waist tighten and draw him back against the solid heat of another person. Leander tensed at the movement, shock causing him to open his eyes and stare ahead of him at the dark wooden wall only a few feet in front of him. Rays of pale morning sunlight were streaming in through the gaps of the wooden boards, casting beams of light onto the floor. Dust danced in their beams and Leander stared despondent at them. 

A wooden wall, pale scratchy straw covering the dirt packed ground and the strong scent of hey in the air. Ah, yes, he was in the barn. With the recognition of his surroundings, his mind started to fill in the blanks of the previous twenty four hours and he stifled a low groan of despair. 

He was a long way from the small crooked cottage belonging to the female Shaman with her knotted necklace of trinkets and her sharp grin, a long way from the safety that his Captain of the Guard Torin had provided. The man must have woken up by now, a habit of a lifetime of being a soldier who wakes with the dawn, and now he knew what Leander had done in the night. 

Leander could only hope that Alara was persuasive enough to talk Torin out of messing up his chance for freedom and happiness by charging his way back to the Capital and demanding Leander be returned to him.

What would Torin say if he knew what Kaldir had wanted with Leander? What would he do?

But he knew something about Kaldir’s intentions when he took you from the Castle, didn’t he? That look he gave you when you told him what had happened when you had astral projected to the Castle in your pique of homesickness and Kaldir had been able to catch hold of you. He knew something wasn’t quite right with how Kaldir was with you and Torin had started to speak of his concerns, only to then change his mind. 

It doesn’t matter now, he thought as his hands balled into clenched fists as his nails cut into the delicate skin of his palms, blood welling into the crescent shapes left behind. The sharp stinging pain allowed Leander to centre himself, to smother the anxiety building up inside of his chest before it grew into a full blown panic attack and alert Kaldir to his unbalanced emotional state. As long as Torin and the others are safe, none of it matters anymore. 

The dice had been cast, he had thrown in everything that he had, and now he must be content with the result of such a move. There were no second chances with these things, no option that would allow for a do-over. This was it and he would have to make his peace with that, regardless of what Kaldir would do to him. What he had done to him. 

The arm tightened around him again and Leander knew without looking back over his shoulder that Kaldir was awake. He felt the other’s breath ghost across the nape of his neck that wasn’t covered by the skin-warmed collar, making him shiver involuntarily at the sensation. “I can hear that brain of yours racing a mile a minute,” Kaldir murmured against his skin. 

Kaldir’s voice wasn’t rough like Leander would expect from just waking up, his words perfectly clear and concise, meaning he had to have been awake for some time now. Leander doesn’t know why that thought should unsettle him so much. Maybe it was because sleeping, that unknowing of what was happening around him, left him open and vulnerable. Kaldir could have done a great number of things to him without Leander being able to defend himself. Not that he had been particularly successful in that regard so far. Still, it was a troubling line of thought. 

“Can you blame me?” Leander asked for want of anything else to say to the comment posed. He didn’t actually expect a reply to that, but Kaldir hummed from behind him, a slow thoughtful sound that vibrated against Leander’s back.

“No, I don't suppose I can blame you,” he said and his arm fell away from Leander’s waist, hand settling on Leander’s hip as he gently tugged at him to get him to turn his body around and face him. Leander went willingly, settling on his side again and staring into the face of his brother who watched him back intently. Lying like this brought their faces close together, Kaldir still holding onto Leander like he was afraid to let go, that without the simple contact with Leander would bring about Leander vanishing before his eyes from one breath to the next. 

It was only like this that Leander realised he was staring at an entirely different Kaldir from the one he had met only last night. Kaldir from the night before had been intense, almost wild in his desperation to get closer to Leander, to stake his ownership over someone he considered rightfully his. There had been no self possession in what he had done, something that Leander would never have thought he would have seen from someone who was so exacting in what they did their whole life. That elf control had been stripped away, flayed away almost, from Kaldir and in its place was a creature that was taken over by his powerful emotion, taken wholly by primal instincts that was a lot more animal than human. 

Leander had never seen that side of Kaldir before. It had frightened him and yet, in some small capacity it had exhilarated him. 

But watching him now, it was hard to reconcile this relaxed being with the creature of last night. The Kaldir of today was the same from Leander’s childhood, that calm solid presence like a balm to Leander’s frayed nerves. He looked at Leander with an expression of contentment, as if to say Leander was back by his side and all was as it should be. 

Leander blinked at him, the sudden thought that Kaldir had truly been afraid of losing him, that the severance of their soul bond would have been a crushing blow for reasons other than sitting on the throne finally dawned on Leander like some great revelation. Had the roughness, almost akin to desperation, been because of how close they had come to the end of everything?

His shock must have registered on his face as Kaldir’s brows drew downwards as he narrowed his eyes at the sight of it. “What is it? What are you thinking?”

“I,” Leander stopped himself, not having the heart or the courage to tell him everything that was going through his mind. He wasn’t sure if it would make him angry that he had finally, finally, just put it all together, so he simply asked, “The soul bond really was to save me, wasn’t it?”

Kaldir’s gaze darkened imperceptibly. “I can take an educated guess as to what you and your Captain had thought about my reasons for doing what I did.” Kaldir’s lip trembled into the beginnings of a sneer at the thought. “Torin may not be as devout to the Sun religion as I had previously thought, considering that he knew a Shaman and didn’t oust her to the authorities like others would have done in his place, but he still took a dim view of the old ways of magick. Soul binding might as well have been a death sentence to you in his eyes.”

Leander had to bite his lip to stop himself from immediately jumping to the defence of Torin. Kaldir wouldn’t want to hear it and Leander wanted to turn his thoughts away from the other man as soon as possible. Torin must stay safe.

“None of that is true,” Kaldir continued, his hand lifting from Leander’s hip to cup his cheek, his fingers tracing the curve of Leander’s cheekbone in a soft caress. “The throne was the furthest thing from my mind when I did what I did. All I knew then was that the only person in the world that I cared about was dying of the burning sickness and I wasn’t about to let that happen. You were too important to me, even then. You always have been.”

Those earnestly spoken words made warmth spread in Leander’s chest, felt himself cling to them with nothing short of relief. Kaldir’s admittance meant that, whatever this was, it was something more than ownership. It wasn’t about teaching him humiliation, but rather done out of love. 

Are you sure you’re not getting love confused with obsession? 

Leander shied away from the thought, he couldn’t deal with it at that moment. He had, after all, just found out his brother felt for him more than what brothers should feel for each other. That he had acted on it. That Leander himself had reacted to it and, deep down, enjoyed every moment of it.

And wasn’t that a revelation in and of itself? Perhaps they were really made for each other after all, two twisted and unstable souls finding something in each other that helped them get through everything together. 

“This isn’t going to end well,” Lender murmured, watching Kaldir’s face for his reaction. “You must know that, deep down. Kings of our line have always had lovers from the great Houses of Nasria. They have fathered children with them so as to continue the Rite of succession. This has been the way since the founding of the Kingdom. The masters have been beating it into our heads since we were old enough to understand such things.” Leander swallowed convulsively. “They won’t be happy with you returning to the capital and me still very much alive, despite stripping me of my title of Prince and a slave collar around my neck.”

Whatever expression Leander had expected Kaldir to form at his words, a genuine smile wasn’t it. His eyes drifted down to the collar at Leander’s neck, his hand soon following as he rubbed the metal covetously. It was like a compulsion, Kaldir couldn’t seem to stop himself from touching it. “Oh, I am counting on their disapproval. Disapproval leads to self-righteous anger and self-righteous anger leads to them making stupid mistakes. Stupid mistakes is something I can use to my own advantage. Besides, they wanted me to be the one to take the throne. I never said outright what kind of King I would be. They were the ones to assume I would follow in our father’s footsteps in giving the priests a say in Nasria’s governance.”

“Not that you disabuse them of such notions,” Leander cut in.

“It seemed prudent to keep my mouth shut at such times,” Kaldir agreed.

“And what kind of King will you be?” Leander asked.

“One that will herald change.” The smile widened, white teeth flashing in the muted light of morning. “With you by my side, how can I not be?”

Leander felt trepidation at those words. The word ‘change’ coming from a King’s mouth often meant more bloodshed for the people and his opponents. “A slave doesn’t stand at the side of the King, shoulder to shoulder like an equal. A slave sits at the King’s feet with a bowed head.” Leander licked his lips, mouth going dry with his nervousness. “Will you not remove the collar from my throat? I will not run away, I have sworn it...”

Kaldir’s eyes hardened and Leander trailed off into silence at that look. “I meant every word of what I said last night, Leander. If I took the collar off of you now, you won’t forgive yourself for what we did. And I won’t have that.”

“You called it my moral compass,” Leander said bitterly, echoing Kaldir’s words from the previous night.

Kaldir leaned closer so that Leander had no choice but to keep eye contact with him. “It’s for your own good,” Kaldir said softly.

Leander couldn’t help but snort at that, turning his face away to stare up at the ceiling. “My own good, you say.”

Kaldir gripped Leander’s chin, his hold firm bordering on painful and forced Leander to look back at him. “I do say so. Being my slave offers you more protection than being my brother Prince in a King’s court,” he said, his tone of voice implacable. “Will you not trust me after all this time?”

Leander looked at him, mind racing forward. Did he trust Kaldir? Before all of this had happened, he would never have hesitated to say yes, of course he trusted Kaldir. He had trusted no one more than Kaldir, not even Torin. But can he say the same now, after everything?

Gods help him, the answer was still yes, yes he trusted him. What did that make him? A bullible, naive fool of a slave. 

He nodded his head, too overcome to speak.

Kaldir pressed their foreheads together. “Then trust me and don’t ask it of me again.”

There was no more talk after that statement. Kaldir leaned forward, capturing Leander’s lips in a swift ardent open mouth kiss, effectively shutting him up. It's with a startling thought that this was the first time Kaldir had actually kissed him. At least, not like this. There were plenty of times when they were growing up that Kaldir had kissed him on the forehead or the cheek. Affectionate brotherly kisses, nothing untoward.

Certainly not like this.

And certainly not last night. For all the things that they had done, things that sent a rush of heat through Leander’s body at the mere thought of it, Kaldir hadn’t leant in and kissed Leander.

It was-

It was like nothing Leander had felt before. The kiss with Sacha couldn’t even compare, a pale shadow in comparison to what Kaldir’s kiss made him feel. It was like being struck by a bolt of lightning, the jolt of awareness in every molecule in his body, all screaming out in once voice and saying this. This is it. This is what you have been missing your whole life. 

And it was right in front of you this whole time. 

Was it really Leander thinking that or was it prompted by the soul bound?

Can two souls that have been inextricably linked together for so long tell which part of themselves belonged to the other and which were their own? Or did it just blend in together until they were one and the same?

In the end, did it really matter? 

Leander’s arms came up to Kaldir’s shoulders as if to push him away, but the movement shifted the collar at his neck, a stark reminder of what his life was to be like now. The reality of his future, what Kaldir’s wants actually entails for Leander. What the awakening of Leander’s wants entail. 

Instead, his fingers twisted in the material of Kaldir’s open shirt and pulled him closer, mouth opening wider and tongue pushing against Kaldir’s own to coax him on and Kaldir didn’t disappoint. 

He pushed Leander back into the warm padding of his cloak and Kaldir soon followed him down, blanketing him with his bigger body. 

Broken, unstable souls indeed. 

* * *

When the sun had fully risen over the horizon, Kaldir got up from their nest on the straw and silently left the barn. Leander watched him go with no small amount of trepidation. He shut the barn door behind him and Leander laid there quietly, listening out for any noise on the other side of that door that he could glean. 

Litening for what, Leander wasn’t sure. Laughter from Kaldir’s guards, maybe. Jeering. Good old soldier’s talk of the conquest that Kaldir had just made of his own dear brother. 

Or would they look at their King differently after what he had done? Will they still follow him with the blind devotion they had done since entering Kaldir’s service or would they turn away from him in disgust? 

So Kaldir listened with bated breath, listened to the low murmuring of voices, and waited. One minute passed, then another, but no outbursts of raucous laughter or raised derisive voices, and Leander wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

Eventually Kaldir came back into the barn with a bundle of fabric under his arm and a basin of clean hot water, mist curling in the air above it. Leander quickly sat up as Kaldir placed the basin on the floor by his feet. The fabric was fresh clothes and Kaldir held them out for Leander to take. 

“You should wash and change while we have the means to do so,” Kaldir said as Leander took them into his hands. “Once you're done, come out and eat with us. I want to be on the road as soon as we can.” 

Leander really didn’t want to leave the safety of the barn, to open himself up to the staring and the whispers that would follow, but it wasn’t like Leander really had a choice in the matter. He couldn’t stay in that barn forever.

He nodded his assent and watched as Kaldir left again. Now alone, Leander stripped off his clothes and began to wash himself as best as he can with the water from the basin. The clothes that Kaldir had brought were simple breeches and a shirt that were far too big for him. He rolled the breech legs and the shirt sleeves up, tucking the shirt tails into the breeches so that he didn’t look as unkempt as he felt.

With nothing more to do to keep him there, he slipped out of the barn and outside into the fresh air.

Kaldir and his guards were milling around a pleasantly burning campfire, sitting on low stools as they warmed their hands or ate what looked like cooked weybread and drinking from metal canisters filled with dark coffee boiled over the fire. Kaldir sat amongst them, Eiran by his side with their heads bent together in earnest conversation.

Leander paused uncertainly, not sure on how to proceed. It was Eiran who spotted him first, those sharp eyes taking Leander in with one sweeping look with barely a change to his calm expression, before giving a head tilt of encouragement. 

Leander drew in a deep breath before letting it out slowly, steeling himself for this next part. It was no time like the present. After all, he was going to have to get used to the blatant stares of the whole Court when they got back to the Capitol. 

This would be nothing in comparison to that. 

He headed over to their campsite, taking care to keep his head high as he did so. Eiran nudged Kaldir’s side and, without him having to look up, he made room on his other side for Leander to sit. Leander did so, keeping himself to himself so nothing of his brushed against anyone. His eyes flicked around those at the fire, and while they all acknowledged Leander’s entrance, he was not held with any derision.

With growing wonder, he realised there was hardly anything to their looks other than an acknowledgement of his presence at Kaldir’s side. Could Kaldir really instill such loyalty in his men that they would stand by him, no matter what?

Leander looked to Kaldir and found him already watching him, like he knew what Leander was thinking. He held his hand out, a piece of the wheybread between his fingers, like an offering.

Without breaking eye contact, Leander took the whey bread and bit into it. The bread was heavy on his tongue, but he forced it down anyway. It seemed bad form to reject such an offering in front of other people.

“I’ve sent two of our men to ride ahead of us to the Capital, to announce the good news of your victory and to make ready of your arrival,” Erian was saying. “Recent fair weather will make our journey home an easy one, my King.”

“Good,” Kaldir replied and he smiled an unsettling smile. Not once did he look away from Leander this whole time. “We will soon find out if the Kingdom of Nasria will endure the change that I have planned for it.”

“I have no doubt of it, my King,” Eiran said with the utmost conviction in what he was saying. “Your will be done.”

Leander kept quiet, keeping his thoughts to himself. One way or another, they would soon find out.


	10. Chapter Ten

The procession back into the capital city six days later was unlike anything Leander had ever seen before, even in his father’s time. What seemed like thousands of people, from the peasant farmers and working traders to the highest peers of the Kingdom in their bright coloured silk robes, had lined the streets in their droves to welcome their new King and to cheer him on to the very gates of the castle. 

The streets themselves had been decorated just for the occasion. Large blood red banners that had Kaldir’s House crest of the rising phoenix hung from open windows, the material catching in the soft breeze and flashing gold in the sunshine. Numerous flower petals of all different colours were being thrown from the rooftops of houses and shops that lined the road, the air alive with the riot of colour and floral scent as they fluttered to the cobblestone of the road and lay there like a soft downy blanket as the King and his proud guard marched through it. 

The noise from the crowd was almost deafening, their cries of “Long live King Kaldir! Long live the King!” and their tumultuous rejoicing was like the roar of a large beast. Leander wanted to clap his hands over his ears to drown out some of the raucous sound but he couldn’t. Kaldir had bound his wrists together to the saddle in front of him with rope. 

When they had reached the walls of the city that marked its boundary, Kaldir had stopped their advance along the road to demand the rope from his Captain. Eiran had produced it from his saddlebag and Kaldir had turned to Leander with a warning look in his eyes to not struggle. 

In that moment, Leander recalled a memory of when he had been no more than seven years old and his father had returned home from a victorious war he had waged against a neighbouring province, a province that was now a part of their own country. The whole city had turned out to see his father on top of his great war horse, waving at the crowds and dragging the defeated enemy King behind him. The defeated King had his hands tied in front of him and Leander’s father had made a leather leash around the man’s neck, tugging viciously if he slowed too much because of his exhaustion. His father wouldn’t show mercy when his captive fell to his knees and almost dragged over those same cobblestones they rode over now. The defeated King had to scramble up on his own power, teeth gritted in excruciating pain, his bare feet bloody and raw. 

Leander couldn’t recall what happened to him. It was probably for the best, all things considered. 

Leander had a moment of panic when he had thought Kaldir had the exact same thing planned for him but he forced himself to remain still as Kaldir looped the rope around Leander’s wrists firmly, all the while Kaldir watched his face for some reaction. A test, perhaps. To see how willing Leander really was in putting his trust in Kaldir. In complying with his wishes.

_Merely for the pageantry_ , he had promised him as he tied the rope around his wrists, giving it a tug to make sure the knots held firmly. _It is to be expected if they wanted the act to be believable for the public and court alike._

Leander was then transferred from his own horse to then be seated in the saddle of Kaldir’s great black war horse with Kaldir sitting behind him. The rope about his wrists was tied to the saddle so he didn’t have the scope to move around as much as he would have liked.

Leander’s cheeks heated as Kaldir’s arms came around his waist to grip the reins and he was painfully aware that he was seated side saddle, like the ladies of the court were want to do, his body turned into Kaldir’s chest to remain seated without sliding off.

Leander knew what a sight they must be to the others. 

Now, as they proceeded through the crowded streets like returning conquering heroes of the great stories, Leander couldn’t quell the urge to glance up at the faces in the crowd. Most were jubilant at seeing the face of their new King. Some watched Leander curiously, turning to their companions to speak with each other over the racket. A Prince still allowed to live? What could that mean?

People were starting to point and stare and Leander turned his face away from the crowd, letting the noise wash over him in an incoherent sound that made his mind numb from all thought. He felt like he was being paraded for all to see, the collar around his neck flashing in the afternoon sunlight, bound and trapped by their benevolent King. A damming beacon.

Kaldir, of course, remained unfazed by the wonderment of the crowd, back straight and facing forward to their destination.

Their little procession carried on its way through the streets, basking in the love of the people, before they ended up at the golden gates of the Sun Priest’s temple. The temple was a monolithic building made of beautiful dark red stone that seemed to burn as the rays of sunrise and sunset touched it. It towered over every building surrounding it, the structure circular at its base and narrowed to a point as it reached up to the cloudless blue sky above it. In the walls were great etched carvings of the creation of Nasria and its successful expansion to what it was now, the Sun God Kova lighting the way of his devoted people that were depicted below him, hands raised in supplication to him.

Leander hated that temple, but he hated the Head Priest more. He stared upon the expressionless face of the Sun God Kova, couldn’t help but think maliciously, _What do you think of your people now, Kova? Are we everything you had hoped us to be when you made us?_

When the gates opened with the sound of blaring trumpets and they were spirited through, the Priest’s bodyguards were quick to shut them to keep the jostling crowd out. Immediately, the noise was dampened with the barrier and Leander felt the weight of their gaze lifted from his shoulders like a physical weight. It was only when Kaldir shifted against his back that Leander realised he had pressed himself against him in a halfhearted attempt to get away from the temple. He tried to shift forward to correct his oversight, to put some appropriate space between them again, but Kaldir stopped him with a hand at his hip, immediately stilling the movement.

Leander chanced a glance up at him but Kladir didn’t return the look. He was staring forward, a carefully blank expression on his face and eyes. If Leander didn’t know him so well, he would have missed the tightening of the skin around his eyes, the pinched look around his full mouth. They were small tells of Kaldir keeping his emotions in check. He was gearing up for a showdown. 

Standing in the great archway of the entrance to the temple, awaiting their arrival with apparent anticipation, was the Head Priest Septus and the ten priests that served under him. They were all dressed in the long flowing blood red robes of their calling, a gold and silver sash at their waists and black cuffs on his sleeves. Septus had pristine white cuffs to announce his higher position in the order.

Kaldir pulled his horse to a stop when they reached the white stone steps leading up to the temple, his guards doing the same beside him. They flanked their King in rows of eight and made a show of solidarity that must have been impressive as the Priest’s bodyguards gripped nervously at their ceremonial spears, glancing between the two groups. 

Septus stepped forward with confidence and a wide smile in his weathered face that didn’t quite reach the coldness of his blue eyes. “All hail the one true King of Nasria, Kaldir of Belford!”

For such an old man, his voice was booming and it bounced around the courtyard and both the Priests and the bodyguards dropped to their knees and bowed their heads in respect. “All hail King Kaldir!” They echoed.

Septus’s eyes dropped to Leander and though that smile didn’t slip for a second, the gaze turned all the more flinty. “I was given to understand that all the Princes were dealt with accordingly, my King.”

“You were informed by my courier correctly, Septus,” Kaldir replied, his tone just shy of impertinent, completely disregarding Septus’s title. Leander tensed at the slight, expecting the old man to seethe with rage, but his only outward reaction was Septus’s smile taking a sharper edge. He _really_ didn’t like that. “Atherton and Ennis are dead by my hand and I have stripped Leander of his Princely rank and all of his titles as befitting a slave to me.”

Septus’s eyes immediately dropped to the collar around Leander’s neck, pausing to take it in, then dropping again to Kaldir’s hand resting at Leander’s hip. Kaldir hadn’t removed it and Leander wanted to wriggle in discomfort under that judging gaze, a gaze that grew darker with stifled anger and disapproval. 

The smile was now completely gone from his face. 

The other Priests, clearly used to the Head Priest’s moods, shuffled in disquiet, glancing between each other but otherwise remaining silent. 

Though Leander couldn’t see Kaldir’s face without turning around in the saddle to face him, he could feel Kaldir’s body was relaxed and his hand remained resting on Leander’s hip like it wasn’t a big deal. 

Finally Septus broke the awkward silence that had blanketed the courtyard at Kaldir’s declaration. “Perhaps we should continue this conversation in the privacy of my chambers, my King.”

Kaldir didn’t reply right away. The horse shifted beneath them, pawing at the ground impatiently. The sound of armour clunking quietly as the Kaldir’s guards shifted in their stance and Leander had the horrific thought that Kaldir was going to deny the Head Priest. That he was going to give the order to his guards to fight and slaughter all who stood before them. That the white stone steps of the Sun God’s temple was going to be awash of the blood of its Priests.

The order never came.

Instead, he said, “As you wish,” in an amiable tone of voice and he slid easily from the saddle. 

Leander fully expected the two of them to disappear into the temple together without a backwards glance at the rest of them and Leander to stay and endure more of the staring of the Priests, but Kaldir turned back and began to untie the rope that held him to the saddle. 

Before he knew it, Kaldir had gripped his waist with both of his hands and pulled him from the horse to set him on the ground. Leander’s legs wobbled slightly, threatening to spill him on the ground, but they held at the last moment. Kaldir kept hold of the rope attached to his wrists and led him forward like Leander was on the end of a leash. 

At this point, Leander was past the point of embarrassment. He just wanted to sleep, to rest for a moment or two before what was probably going to be a standoff. All the travelling and the worrying he had done over the past two weeks had finally taken its toll and he was bone achingly exhausted. Despondent to his surroundings, feeling almost numb to it all.

They followed Septus into the cool cavernous room of the temple, passing the brightly coloured prayer matts that were laid out on the floor on either side of them and the large copper bowls where fires were burning, the smoke coming off of the flames were fragranced with strong scented incense. On the other end of the room was a large altar made of the same dark red stone of the temple. It had a stunning gold disc of the sun hanging over it, the light from the large windows shone down on the surface so that it shone like it really was the sun. It made Leander’s eyes water just looking at it.

They silently passed through the sacred space to come out into a plain nondescript hallway with several doorways on either side. Leander knew them to be the sleeping quarters belonging to the Priests and at the end of the hallway was Septus’s own. It was, of course, far more spacious and pretentious than the other more spartan rooms. Septus had two rooms for his own use, the first one they entered was his study where he had full bookshelves lining the walls, a desk and chair in front of the window, and valuable miscellaneous relics from around the Kingdom. The second room was where he slept but Leander had never seen inside, the door always firmly shut. 

It was here that Septus had instructed him on scripture, it was here that Septus took great delight in punishing him for his mistakes, no matter how minor they might have been. Stepping into that room now, not knowing what was going to happen, made Leander feel his unease grow substantially with every second that passed. 

Septus closed the door behind them so no one could overhear their conversation. He stood with his back to them, hand pressed to the door as if he was steeling himself for what was to come. Finally, he turned back to Kaldir and all pretence of deference had been dropped and in its place was pure rage. “Have you gone and lost your mind, Kaldir?”

“Not at all,” Kaldir replied, seemingly unimpressed by the hostile question thrown at him like an accusation. Instead he seemed simply amused by it. “My mind is as it ever was. Clearer, perhaps, now that I know my true path as the King of Nasria.”

The reply only seemed to confuse and incense Septus all the more. He waved his hand to encompass Leander but didn’t so much as look at him. Before their father had passed, no one would dare to act as if a Prince of the Kingdom wasn’t in the room with them, even if it was Leander. It was another cruel reminder how far he had fallen. “This action cannot be born,” Septus said, each word pronounced with a clipped edge to them. “You know the laws of our country. You know that all your brothers have to die so that you can ascend to the throne as the rightful ruler of this Kingdom. Stripping him of his Princehood doesn’t do a goddamned thing in the eyes of the world, in the eyes of your people. He must die by your hands, Kaldir. It is _our way, the only way_.”

Septus was near shouting by the time he had finished and it sent them ringing around the room, making the resulting silence all the more awkward. Leander felt it like a physical blow and his heart rate quickened until it felt like his heart was thundering in his ribcage. His sight blurred and sharpened with his growing anxiety and it took all of his willpower not to turn and flee from the room.

A fat lot of good it would do him in the grand scheme of things, but the fight or flight response was a strong instinct all the same. 

The tirade, however, didn’t ruffle Kaldir one bit. He merely smiled that awful smile that turned Leander’s blood to ice in his veins. “Well, that’s not strictly true, is it High Priest?”

The question threw Septus off his stride for a moment before he rallied himself admirably. “What could you possibly mean by that? The Sun Priests have always been the keeper of the records, I would know if anything like that was in my archives-”

Kaldir cut in smoothly as he perched himself on the corner of the desk, body language at ease. As if they were merely discussing the fair weather they’ve been having recently. “Then you, as the head records keeper and the fountain of all knowledge, would know that King Ephram ll kept one of his brothers as his own. Two hundred and twelve years ago, if I'm not mistaken.”

Leander was willing to bet that ‘two hundred and twelve years ago’ was the exact number and Kaldir was just being condescending for Septus’s benefit. Those thoughts were quickly derailed by his utter surprise that not once in his history studies had he ever come across anything like that before. He had known the name of the Kings that came before and their subsequent reigns but nothing that even hinted of such a thing. Septus had been empathetic on the fate of Princes who didn’t make the cut, he would even go so far as to say cheerfully brutal in his honesty. Had he been lying all this time? What else had he been keeping to himself on such matters?

Septus’s anger abatted in his bewilderment of the accusation. He stared at Kaldir, trying to choose his words carefully. “I... Perhaps your Highness didn’t fully understand the records he had read. King Ephram II kept his brother as a whore.” Leander couldn’t help but flinch at that word. “ If you had come to me with your questions before all of this nonsense, I would have happily set you right-”

Nonsense. Leander stared at Septus with bewilderment bordering on horror. He was speaking to Kaldir like he was some wayward child and not a King.

Kaldir’s eyes flashed at the presumption to correct a Prince turned King. His voice turned dangerously soft but unwaveringly strong. “The records were quite specific, Septus, no interpreter was needed. And I believe the official term the chronicler used was consort, not whore. Perhaps the High Priest needs his own lesson in interpreting the records…”

Colour rose in Septus’s cheeks at the rebuttal and he spoke in embarrassed haste. “King Ephram II was known to be unstable. Some would go as far as to say insane...”

The temperature dropped as Kaldir’s eyes darkened with his own anger. Leander stood separately from the two men in the room as they faced off against each other and was thankful that the look wasn’t aimed at him. He couldn’t understand how Septus wasn’t cowering at this point, that he couldn’t see the threat right in front of his face. But then again, the man always felt his own consequence more than he should. He really thought he was safe from the King’s wrath. 

“Is that your personal opinion of a God anointed King of Nasria, Septus?” Kaldir asked, voice impossibly low. Lethal. A threat in that tone that finally, _finally_ , warned Septus that he was skating on very thin ice.

He quickly backtracked, hands held up in supplication. “No, of course not, my King. I would never presume such a thing. I merely meant that King Ephram II was notably unusual with his choice-” he started delicately but was quickly cut off. 

“As is his right as King.” Kaldir said firmly. “As is _my_ right as King.”

Understanding was beginning to dawn in the Head Priest’s eyes and he turned his attention to Leander, his eyes sweeping over Leander’s form in a slow perusal and Leander had been entirely wrong. He did have the capacity to be mortified all over again. He hated the look in the Priest’s eyes, his skin crawling with revulsion. He needed to be dunked repeatedly in a bath for how it made him feel.

Leander couldn't help but glance at Kaldir, whether it was to gauge his reaction of what was happening or to figure out what Leander should be doing right now, he did not know. He hadn’t moved since he perched himself on the edge of the desk, arms crossed in front of him as he watched Septus with an odd look on his face.

It was watchful, taking in every little detail of the Priest as he continued to stare. Leander couldn’t help but liken it to how a predator watched its prey, only predators didn’t really view their next meals with something akin to mockery to their stare. Kaldir watched Septus like he was waiting for the man to fall into a trap of his own doing.

Leander didn’t know how this was going to end, for any of them, but he knew for a fact that Septus wasn’t going to like where it led. 


	11. Chapter Eleven

“The King’s right is divine,” Septus murmured as he walked up to Leander and Leander quelled the urge to quickly back up from the man and plaster himself against the wall. The act would have been too much like cowardice on Leander’s part and he didn’t want to give away how much Septus really unsettled him. Still unsettled him. He stood his ground, hands balling into fists in front of him, and Spetus leant in close, far too close for his comfort. 

Despite his determination, he couldn’t help but flinched when the Priest’s hand came up to toy with the collar at his throat. Incidentally or by design, he brushed the skin at Leander’s throat as he did so. Leander fought a shudder of revulsion at that touch. “I had no idea you had such proclivities towards your brother, my King. It was a well kept secret.”

The thought of such things seemed to delight him, even excite him. 

Over Septus’s shoulder, Leander saw Kaldir’s shoulders tense for a long moment, before they finally relaxed. He slowly straightened from his slouch against the desk, body uncoiling like an animal to his full height. Kaldir watched as the Head Priest touched Leander, running his bony fingers over the metal like he was petting it, like he had every right to do so. Like he didn’t need permission to do so. 

Kaldir’s expression was deadly, eyes flat and mutinous. Leander had only ever seen that look on his face once before. It had been when he had found Leander with Sacha in the barn for what felt like an age ago. Leander never wanted to repeat that experience.

Leander didn’t want to admit it, but it did make his heart skip with no small amount of excitement at the thought of Septus on the other end of that stare and to suffer for such presumption. 

To suffer for all those times that he had punished Leander for his mistakes with the thin wooden cane he always kept at arm's length. He would run it over his fingers as he asked endless questions on the moral teachings of the Sun God. It was used to frighten Leander, his fright making him stumble over his words and his brain drew a blank on questions he actually knew the answer to. Septus knew this, of course, but it didn’t stop him from sending a hail of stinging blows across Leander’s heaving shoulder blades, his back, his torso. Bright red marks that striped his skin, marks that could easily be covered by a tunic. 

Leander wanted Septus to get what was coming to him. He wanted Septus to feel the hurt and humiliation that the priest had so easily doled out to him. If Kaldir was to cross the space between them now and start beating the old man to an inch of his life, Leander wouldn’t stop him.

In fact, he would watch it without any remorse on his part. He would welcome such a thing.

Perhaps Leander’s father’s teachings had made a home inside of him, afterall. Royalty and violence went hand in hand, he would always say, and Leander’s squeamishness of it would be his undoing. 

_ Not so squeamish of violence now, am I father. We are who our parents strive to make us.  _

Septus was not aware of the danger he was placing himself in as he continued to touch the collar like it utterly fascinated him. “I can hardly blame you for such things, my King. The House of Tye is notorious for breeding such pretty Princes.” 

Kaldir pushed off from his seat on the desk, those dark eyes tracking the Priest’s fingers on the collar unerringly. His jaw clenched like he was grinding his teeth together, the muscle jumping in his cheek as he did so. “You think the House of Tye’s Princes to be pretty? Hardly surprising. I got that impression every time you would force Leander to his knees for mistakes you allowed the rest of my brothers and I to get away with. It seems I was right.”

The words were spoken calmly, like he was remarking on the weather, but Leander knew Kaldir. He was anything but calm in this situation and Septus still hadn’t turned around to see the expression on his face.

Instead the Head Priest clucked his tongue against his front teeth, pleased with himself. The dark pupils of his eyes began to blow wide with his growing excitement. “I can admit to a certain degree of pleasure from seeing such a comely thing on his knees before me, his head bowed in supplication to the Gods above.”

Septus’s murmured confession made the sense of revulsion in Leander’s stomach grow, thinking back to all those times when he had been here in the temple alone with the old man under the pretences of lessons, and all the while he had been thinking unclean thoughts of a Prince, that he was three times Leander’s age was of no consequence to him.

_ Such a comely thing on his knees. _ Despite Leander being right in front of him, wearing the collar that Septus was practically fondling, he spoke about Lender like he was nothing more than a thing. That he wasn’t a living, breathing, human being. It took everything in him to not show the rage on his face. This wasn’t the place or the time for his feelings to ruin whatever play Kaldir was making in that moment. 

But it cost him.

Kaldir’s face broke into a smile and it was vicious, lips pulling away from white teeth in more of a snarl than anything else. “You think he looks good on his knees? You should see him right before he orgasms, it’s worth more than all the gold in the Kingdom.”

Leander thought he made a small mortified noise in the back of his throat, but it was drowned out by Septus clearing his throat abruptly. Colour suffused Septus’s skin at that bold admission. 

He opened his mouth like a landed fish but he didn’t have a chance to reply, his eyes suddenly bulging in their sockets and he gave a choked cut off gasp, like he found himself unable to breathe. The hand at Leander’s collar spasmed, tightening around the collar and almost choking Leander himself. He had to wrench himself out of that grip before the old man was successful in killing him after all, stumbling back against the wall with a loud jarring thump. 

Septus let him go easily enough, clawing at his own neck like he was trying to dislodge whatever was making him gag. His long nails left deep red marks on the skin of his throat, blood welling in the deeper gauges until they were bright red against the sallowness.

Leander pressed himself tighter against the wall, out of reach of his wild flailing. He looked to Kaldir for a sign as to what to do, should he go for help?, but quickly realised Kaldir was using his power to strangle the man. Leander could only look on in stunned silence.

And simply watch.

Septus wheezed painfully, whirling back to Kaldir and, for the first time since they stepped foot into the temple, he had true fear in his eyes. His voice was nothing more than a convulsive wheeze when he could speak, “My King, please, what are you doing-”

“I don’t recall giving you permission to touch what is mine, Septus,” he said in a voice that was full of menace, of barely repressed rage. It echoed within the four walls, resonated with such power, that it was virtually unrecognisable.

Septus groaned in pain and blood began to drip from Septus’s nose. It started with a drop, snaking a slow path down to his top lip, before he became a steady stream. “Please, my King, I meant no disrespect!” 

“No disrespect?” Kaldir echoed softly, stepping closer and dwarfing the Priest with his broad height. “You presumed to tell a King what he can or cannot do. That sounds a lot like you were being disrespectful to me. It sounds a lot like you are angling for the throne yourself. To be the lawmaker. Is that what you’re doing here, Septus?”

Septus’s face was turning a deep shade of purple as he struggled for breath. “...Was only trying….to remind you…. Of our traditions…the traditions… of your ancestors!”

Kaldir snarled at that, eyes flashing wildly. “A tradition that has been put aside by other monarchs and yet you have conveniently forgotten.” Kaldir tilted his head as if perceiving the Priest for the first time. “Perhaps, under the incidences that you have freely admitted to me, you hoped that Leander would be killed so your soul would remain clean before your God.”

Septus’s eyes bulged again and he sputtered out a rasping, “Never, my King-”

Kaldir stepped closer to the shuddering man again. “You see, I think you’re lying to me. You are lying to your King. And do you want to know what I really think?”

Septus looked like he really didn’t want to know what Kaldir thought but Kaldir didn’t oblige him. 

“I think that you’ve gotten too comfortable as High Priest to Kova and forgotten that you serve the King in whatever capacity that the crown sees fit. Not the other way round. That you thought you could put a Prince on his knees for your own pleasure without any consequence, that you thought to deny the King his divine right and do so with impunity.” Kaldir shook his head like he was disciplining a wayward child. “You have lost your way, Septus. I think it is time for you to step down from your position so that a new High Priest who knows what his mission is can take up the mantle. A fresh start for the Sun temple and bring your religion to the modern age, so to speak.”

Seeing no other recourse open to him, Septus now resorted to out right begging. “Please, my King...don’t do this… I have only ever served the crown… and the Kingdom… to the best of my… ability…my loyalty is ever… with the throne...”

Kaldir remained unmoved by the snivelling words. “Your best isn’t good enough. Your loyalty means nothing to me. It never has been. Guards!” He shouted and immediately two of his men came through the door at the ready with their hands on their swords at their belt. Leander had no idea that they had followed them through the temple and waited outside until they were needed. It seemed neither did Septus by the devastated look on his face. None of his bodyguards will be coming to his aid. “Escort the High Priest,” he paused at this, a charming smile thrown at Septus. “My apologies, the former High priest from this temple to the city gates. He has outgrown his use to the crown and has been exiled from the Capital.” 

Kaldir released him from his power and Septus fell to the floor on his hands and knees gasping and sobbing his incoherent pleas for mercy. The guards didn’t hesitate in obeying his orders, they grabbed the pitiful man by the arms and dragged him towards the door, Septus digging his heels in the whole way. “Exiled?! Please, my King, you can’t do this to me! I have been High Priest for the last twenty years, I have given everything to your family!”

“And my family is so grateful for all you have done in your service,” Kaldir returned. “And I wish you well in your retirement.”

With that, Septus was dragged from the room as he still cried out his outrage at his treatment. 

They passed by another Priest in the hallway who backed up against the wall and looked on after his former master with an unmoved expression. He was about two decades younger than Septus, his short black hair was styled back from his handsome face and was starting to go grey at his temples. He had the smooth bronze skin of the people of the south with their light green eyes that were said to have been gifted to them by Kova himself. 

Leander watched him with a small frown, he had seen the man before. Memory sparking, he realised he had often watched the Priest tending to the great fires of the temple during mass for the people. 

Kaldir noticed him too and he waved him forward with a careless hand. The Priest didn’t hesitate, he came forward willingly with a deferential title of his head. “Chay,” Kaldir acknowledged the man with a nod. “As the new High Priest of the Sun temple, I trust that you will keep the faith with the people and nurture the interests of the throne as your first priority in your new position.”

The words were heavy with a deeper meaning behind them, though it didn’t take a genius to figure out that Kaldir, while congratulating the man, was warning him that he was only High Priest at Kaldir’s behest. If Chay got it into his head to come between the crown and its interests, then he would find himself in a similar position to his predecessor.

Chay bowed deeply in reply and Leander found it interesting that the man didn’t act perturbed by his master’s sudden ousting, nor surprised at his subsequent promotion. It was clearly anticipated and Leander wondered if Kaldir had planned for this outcome since the beginning of the Succession. There was no wandering about it, of course Kaldir had planned for such a move to be made.

“I am honoured, my King,” Chay said warmly, clearly pleased with the outcome. “Though, if I may be permitted to advise the throne, Septus is a petty man at his core. Give him enough time to lick his wounds, that wound will fester and he may take it into his head to use your mercy as a way to cause you and the court trouble.”

Kaldir raised an eyebrow at him. “What are you advising?”

“While Septus wasn’t well loved amongst your Court, he was popular with some of the people,” Chay continued. “There is a very real possibility that he could incite unrest in the masses. This is a crucial time in your reign as you consolidate your powerbase. A mob at the city gates is a problem the crown doesn’t need.”

Kaldir tilted his head in agreement. “Executing a man who was so recently the face of the Sun faith would incite the mass more than what his rhetoric would cause, Chay.”

Chay nodded. “Of course, my King. I would never advise you to sully your hands in such a way. But the roads to the capital are fraught with many dangers, especially for a lone traveller. There is no telling what could happen during his exile. A broken leg from a fall, getting your possessions stolen by thieves, having your throat cut by unscrupulous persons. There is no telling what could happen.”

Kaldir regarded the man for a few moments that seemed to stretch on for an eternity, before he nodded once. “Those roads are dangerous. You’re right, there’s no telling what could happen to a frail old man. I’m sure you could find some men to escort him to where he wants to go.”

“I know just the men for such a job,” Chay said. His tone never changed from its polite amiability, like they weren’t discussing killing a man in cold blood. It was done so glibly that Leander began to doubt that he was understanding the conversation correctly.

“Then I will leave it in your capable hands,” Kaldir said.

“My King,” Chay bowed. “It will all be as it should, I will personally make sure of that. Your anticipated succession to the throne will go ahead as you had intended. Anyone contesting your right to wear the crown will be deemed enemies of the faith and dealt with accordingly.”

Kaldir inclined his head, satisfied with the answer given. “I knew I could count on your support, High Priest. Is everything ready?”

Chay nodded. “As you have requested. My servants have heated fresh water for your refreshment and the ritual will begin at your say so.”

Ritual? Leander wandered in surprise. What were they talking about? Leander looked up at Kaldir for clarification but received none in that gaze. Kaldir merely stared down at him and touched the collar where Septus had done so, like he was trying to wipe all traces of the man from the metal. 

“Washing the dust off would be a welcome relief after the journey that we have had,” Kaldir murmured. “And Kova would want us to be cleansed for the Claiming in her temple.”

Leander’s heart skipped a beat at that, breath growing short in his lungs. The Claiming was when a King had chosen a consort and took them for the Sun God to bear witness to their union and made it official for the royal Court.

His hands balled into fists in front of him, the rope cutting into the flesh of his wrists. “Kaldir. Do you think that would be wise? There will be backlash from the Court-”

Kaldir’s hand went around his throat again and squeezed in warning and he immediately shut up. Leander’s legs trembled alarmingly, one second away from spilling him to the floor, and a bolt of molten heat zinged up his spine like electricity. He bit his bottom lip to stop the small noise from slipping out. 

It was like the night in the barn had programmed him to feel pleasure at the pressure around his throat and he was powerless to stop it. 

“You’ve sworn yourself to me, Leander,” Kaldir reminded him softly but there was an edge of impatience to it that warned him of any more denials spoken aloud. “Or have you already forgotten?”

“No, Kaldir,” Leander said. “I have not forgotten.”

Leander lapsed into silence, tilting his head up further and baring the delicate skin of his neck to Kaldir in a show of submission. Kaldir’s eyes darkened at the offering, eyes tracing the curve of muscle before his hand tightened around it for a second in recognition of his submission. One by one his fingers uncurled from Leander’s throat and he reluctantly let go. 

He turned back to Chay who had stood silent and expressionless through the display. “Have your servants see to Leander for the cleansing. I will bathe by myself.”

“As you wish, my King,” Chay said and hurried away to do as he was bid. 

Watching him disappear around the corner, Leander murmured, “By removing the old Head Priest with treasonous accusations, you now have the new High Priest eating out of the palm of your hand for his good fortune. There won’t be anything you could ask for that he wouldn’t be able to deny you.”

Kaldir hummed noncommittally. “As you have alluded to before, the Sun Priests are powerful and have good standing with the people. Having them on my side will prove rewarding for future conflicts.”

“And you get me out of the arrangement,” Leander said, almost accusingly. 

Kaldir smiled this time. “And I get you out of the arrangement. Leander, why else would I trouble myself with an old deranged man set on making himself a King of his own Kingdom?”

“Why indeed,” Leander murmured softly.


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note: this chapter contains the drugged ritual sex that is in the story tags. If that is not your cup of tea, please don't read this chapter. This is pretty much a smut chapter, and the only impact it has on the plot is that Leander becomes Kaldir's consort in the eyes of their God Kova.

The newly appointed High Priest’s servants were two young women in light blue robes that were worn by the general domestic help of the city, their long blonde hair tied in neat braids down their back. They ushered him into what must be a washroom belonging to one of the Priests and Leander went without protest.

It was a medium sized room that was completely tiled and it had underfloor heating to keep the air from being bitingly cold in the winter. There were several buckets of steaming water in the corner at the ready with brushes of varying sizes and soft cloths to wash with, an array of little coloured bottles with what looked like scented oils for his skin and hair. 

The women were brusque as they stripped his clothes from him, impersonal as they went about their jobs, scrubbing him down with the cloths and dumping freshwater over his head to get all the dust and grime from travelling off of his skin until he was flushed a rosy pink. The oldest of the women soon began to apply a honey coloured oil that vaguely smelt of lilacs into his hair with a fine toothed comb, while the other woman left the room for a couple of minutes to come back with a large towel and fresh clothes in her arms. 

When his hair was free of all tangles, they washed the oil out of the tresses until it gleamed a golden hue under the lights. Leander watched despondent as the water circled the drain in the middle of the floor went from a murky grey to clear. They did all this without ever speaking to him or to each other. 

Leander wasn’t sure if they were not allowed to engage him in conversation, he never bothered to ask. He welcomed the silence, welcomed the time he had to think of nothing at all other than enjoying the feel of clean skin again. 

Once they were satisfied with their work and he was vigorously dried off with the towel, they applied a fragrant rich cream to his skin that made his pale complexion more lustrous than it really was. They dressed him in a crisp white silk robe whose hem brushed the top of his bare feet and the bell shaped sleeves covered his hands. It had real pearl buttons down the front of it and a large black sash that tied at his waist. His family house crest, the ash tree that bloomed beautifully in the summer months, was depicted on his back and intricately embroidered using a dark green silk thread that changed to an emerald green depending on the light that caught it. His hair was braided at the back of his head, the long rope ended at the middle of his back, loose curls framing his face. 

The collar was ever present at his throat.

They had forgone the underclothes that were usually worn under such a garment and Leander remained naked beneath it. It made him painfully aware of himself as he stood there, the fabric of the robe feeling cool against his vulnerable skin.

The two women finally stood back from him to review their handiwork and nodded, clearly satisfied with the results. They went to the door and opened it wide, motioning him through it. Leander took a deep breath to steady himself for the inevitable and he walked out of the room. 

In the hallway were two of Kaldir’s guards waiting for him and when he appeared, they flanked him and escorted him back to the altar room of the temple. 

They passed the great archway to the courtyard again and Leander looked out to it longingly. It was perhaps no more than a hundred metres to the front gate and beyond it and Kaldir’s other guards were nowhere in sight. They were all probably resting in the bodyguard’s barracks right now with no one keeping an eye on their surroundings. All he had to do was pick up the hem of his robes and run, run faster than his pursuers, run faster than he had ever run before - 

Captain Eiran calmly stepped into the archway and stood still, hands behind his back like he was at parade rest, effectively blocking Leander’s ridiculous pipedream of an escape. Their eyes met and Eiran stared at him impassively, head cocked slightly to the side. There was no censure in that face, no judgement in the direct gaze but Leander knew without a shadow of a doubt that Eiran would chase him down if Leander would cut and run. He had instinctively known what Leander was thinking and had acted accordingly without ever having to say a word. Leander turned his face away. 

The remaining Priests had assembled in the other room, the new High Priest Chay and Kaldir were standing in front of the altar. Chay was dressed in the robes of his position, the fabric a little tight across his shoulders and chest as they were designed for a smaller man. Despite this, they were becoming of him.

Kaldir stood tall in the new robes of his own. Where Leander’s were white, Kaldir’s were black. Where Leander’s sash was black, Kaldir’s was white. His phoenix House crest was embroidered in gold thread on his back. 

The heavy handed symbolism wasn’t lost on anyone in the room. 

Leander was brought forward to the altar, his watch dogs standing back now that they had delivered him to their King and master. Kaldir watched him draw nearer, eyes dark and bottomless. He held his outstretched hand out to him, palm up and waiting patiently. Leander wanted to turn his nose up at it, declare his feelings on the matter as a direct insult to the new King, but refrained from doing so with so many eyes on them. Pausing, he reached out with his own hand and clasped it, aware of how much bigger Kaldir’s was compared to his own. Kaldir drew him closer, eyes roving over Leander, taking him in with a satisfied air. He clearly approved of his new robes. 

To his right, the High Priest raised his arms to the Sun above them and began to chant what sounded like an otherworldly chant. His voice was guttural, rolling the vowels around his mouth. The more Leander listened, the less he was able to make out, didn’t understand what the words meant. The incense from the fires was strong and cloying in the air, wrapping around Leander and filling his lungs with the scent of flowers, overpowering all of his senses.

The temple around him blurred and tilted alarmingly and he gripped Kaldir’s hand all the tighter for fear of sliding to the floor in a heap. _I’ve been drugged,_ he thought in despondent tones, like he was observing his reality rather than experiencing it. _What is happening to me?_

He could hear his heartbeat in his ears, the sound of his blood throbbing through his veins, drowning out the drone of the Priest’s voice, the murmur of Kaldir answering in the beats of silence. Words lost all of their meaning and blended together to form an incoherent static noise that no matter how hard Leander tried to concentrate, he wasn’t able to grasp it. 

He was starting to sweat, moisture collecting along his hairline and the nape of his neck. He went to wipe it away but his arm wouldn’t cooperate with his mind, and it hung uselessly by his side. 

Something was happening. The Priest’s voice grew in volume, it resonated and swelled in the room, and Leander felt Kaldir shift next to him. His hand was let go and he was being turned. Turning and turning until Leander was suddenly pulled in by the hands at his hips, hot lips pressed against his own in a violent, burning kiss. He was overpowered, pressed against hard muscles, crisp clothes creasing between them while Leander found himself helpless against that torrent of want. 

For the first time since the claiming had started, Leander understood what the Priest had said, his words echoing inside of Leander like the toll of a great bell. “You are now joined as King and consort.”

The sound of a gong, low and reverberating, echoed through the temple and through Leander's bones, practically shaking him apart at the seams. Kaldir pulled back and the space started to clear Leander’s mind of the fug it was in, the world around him coming into focus little by little, like he was surfacing from a long deep sleep.

He became aware that they were now alone in the temple and he had no recollection of any of the Priests or the guards leaving the room. The fires around them had been banked, the incense in the smoke not so pungent as before. When Leander focused back on Kaldir, he had his hands on the pearl buttons of Leander’s robes and began working them through the loops. 

“What happened?” Leander asked, his words slurring as if he was speaking through a mouthful of cotton wool. It sounded garbled even to his own ears. “Why am I feeling this way? Kaldir-”

Kaldir’s fingers were deft as he continued to work the buttons open. His fingertips brushed against newly revealed skin as he did so. “I had the servants use a calming oil on your skin when they were preparing you. It seemed like a good idea to have you docile during the ritual.”

A spark of anger broke through the despondency and he narrowed his eyes at Kaldir. “You drugged me?”

“I couldn’t be sure if you would go through with it without an objection to the proceedings,” Kaldi returned amiably. “But don’t worry, the feeling will pass soon enough. I want you to be lucid for this next part.”

“Next part?” Leander asked, blinking up at him. Silly question to ask, as he had the general idea from Kaldir’s ministrations and previous claiming's.

When the last of the buttons were free, Kaldir pushed the fabric off from Leander’s shoulders and let it pool around his ankles. The robes were a thing of beauty and deserved better treatment than to end up on the temple floor, but Leander couldn’t make himself care enough about it.

He now stood naked in front of Kaldir save for the collar, utterly defenceless in the face of his brother’s wants. That want laid heavily on Leander’s skin, consuming him with those dark eyes. As the final trapping of his former life as a Prince of Nasria slipped away from him, so did the last remnant of hope that this was all a terrible joke. 

“Lovely,” Kaldir, his King and master, murmured in a husky voice. “You are perfect for me.”

Leander didn’t think he had the capacity to blush anymore, but here he was blushing like a child at those words. “Perhaps Septus was right about King Ephram II. Perhaps he was insane to want his brother like that. Perhaps we are too for wanting this.”

“Perhaps,” Kaldir replied, lacking any anger at being called so, any conviction in his agreement. “But if that is the case, then we will be insane together.”

His eyes trailed down Leander’s body and Leander looked down at himself, belatedly realising that he was growing hard and flushed. He was dismayed as he answered, “Madness loves company.”

The time for talk was over, it seemed, as Kaldir swiftly stepped forward and placed his hands at his waist, easily picking him up and depositing Leander on the altar like he weighed nothing. The stone was cold beneath Leander’s fevered skin and he hissed a breath between his clenched teeth at the shock of it. Kaldir didn’t give him time to get used to it, instead he immediately moved into the space between Leander’s legs, Kaldir’s hips forcing Leander’s knees further apart to accommodate him. 

Kaldir dragged Leander’s face closer by a hand at the back of his head, fingers pulling at his braid, and he took Leander’s lips in a hard, punishing kiss that sucked the very breath from Leander’s lungs. There was no room to backtrack, no space between them that Leander could use to get away. All he could do was take it and hold on, hands coming to Kaldir’s clothed shoulders. He was pretty sure he had the intention of pushing him away, but he ended up clawing at the robes, ripping at the buttons and causing the garment to gape obscenely at the chest. 

Kaldir snarled and ripped his lips away, his hand planted in the middle of Leander’s chest and none too gently pushing him on his back on the altar, holding them there. Leander got the hint and lay still, breathing fast and jerky

When Kaldir was happy that Leander wasn’t going to move from his spot, he brought his other hand up to join its counterpart in stroking down Leander’s body and under his trembling thighs, spreading them further until the muscles began to burn, rubbing thumbs up the sensitive skin in thoughtless patterns. He leaned down over Leander’s chest to bite over one nipple hard enough that Leander jerked with a small pained yelp, then moaned low as Kaldir licked over the impressions that his teeth had made. The nipple hardened under the onslaught, pleasure a shifting pulse that caused Leander to arch his back up to meet Kaldir's mouth.

He didn't know what to do with his hands, so he settled them awkwardly on Kaldir's back, only to find them pinned pointedly to the altar as Kaldir shifted his attention back to the other nipple. It's as though Kaldir was lighting a fire under Leander's skin itself, a thrumming pleasure that felt like the drug that had coursed through him during the ritual moments before. It turned to his own obsession the more they touched and his body reacted excitedly to it. As though he knew this, Kaldir’s touch slowed, turned reverent rather than hungry. 

"Hold yourself open for me," Kaldir whispered, the pupil of his eyes blown so wide they almost eclipsed the blue of his eyes. He guided Leander’s hands to his knees, and Leander whined low in his throat, obeying the command with breathless anticipation. There was something straining under Kaldir's tone, like he was struggling to hold himself back. 

The new position exposed his private areas, from his cock and balls to his hole, to Kaldir’s unobstructed view. In response, Kaldir didn’t waste any time. He reached into the pocket of his robe and pulled out a glass vial and when he popped the cork, Leander could smell the scent of lubricant.

“Don’t fight this,” Kaldir said, looking into Leander’s eyes as he coated his fingers and pressed a finger into Leander. “It will only make this hurt more.”

The intrusion wasn’t painful exactly, as the lubricant eased the way, but the feeling of being stretched was an uncomfortable one. A soft noise escaped Leander’s throat as the finger moved in and out of him, before Kaldir added a second finger and began to rock them.

A surge of longing the motion evoked inside him wasn't something Leander could turn away from. This was really happening. He was now trembling for a different reason than when he was being prepared for the claiming.

"There..." Kaldir murmured, soft, so close that he couldn't possibly miss Leander's panted breaths. His other hand petted Leander’s thigh like he was calming a distressed animal. "There you go. Gods, you're so tight..."

Leander's stomach muscles clenched as Kaldir’s fingers pressed against something inside of him that sent his back arching violently in incredible sensation, his head thrown back against the stone and mouth opened wide on a silent scream. He had never felt anything like it before, it was deep and sharp and it left his body twitching uncontrollably with the aftershocks. 

In response, Kaldir began to massage the spot with every thrust in with his fingers, hard delicious presses which made Leander’s cock throb with the feel of it, the tip beading with precome. 

The tension began to build low in his belly and Leander began to rock his hips up to meet the thrusting fingers, hands tight on his own thighs. That feeling kept building and building and building-

Until the fingers were suddenly gone and Leander couldn’t stop himself from making a small sound of loss for it. Kaldir gripped his hips with both hands and Leander was flipped onto his front, his toes touching the floor and his ass hanging over the edge of the altar, chest flushed with the stone. 

Leander's pulse sped wildly as his ears picked up on the sound of rustling behind him before the slick sound of lubricant being spread on skin. Kaldir's hand then wrapped around Leander’s hip, holding him in place as something far thicker and blunter than fingers nosed at Leander's entrance.

“Don’t tense up,” Kaldir instructed again as he leaned in and pushed his cock into Leander’s body inch by inch. 

Leander pressed his forehead flat to the altar and tried to breath through the intrusion, discomfort giving way to outright pain. He felt like he was being split in two, his hands scrabbling for purchase in front of him as he tried not to tense at the intrusion. 

Kaldir paused at once, allowing Leander to get used to his girth, hands stroking the slicked skin of Leander’s back, petting him through it.

"Breathe, Leander," he murmured. 

As if his body was already obeying the command of it’s master, Leander’s lungs expanded and he took a deep breath. He felt the pain gently subside as he breathed it out. 

"There... that's it... you're doing beautifully," Kaldir crooned.

Leander whimpered in reply as Kaldir rolled his hips experimentally. It still hurt, but there was pleasure to it now too, enough for Leander to groan and push his hips back to meet those rocking hips. With a few thrusts, he was finally in to the hilt, a feeling of fullness overtaking everything else. 

Kaldir started to thrust in earnest, the momentum making Leander’s cock drag against the smooth surface of the stone and making it wet with his precum. With each thrust, Leander gave a little cry until he was doing it constantly, unable to bite the sounds back. He spread his legs wider and arched his ass up so that Kaldir was nailing that spot inside him that set his world on fire with every push in.

Kaldir growled low, bracing himself against Leander and finally letting go of his control, pounding into him with a fierce rhythm that cared little for comfort. It jerked Leander mercilessly forward and made Leander beg breathlessly, whether to stop or keep going, he didn’t know. 

Kaldir liked the sounds he made as he curved his big body over Leander like a big blanket and buried his face into Leander’s neck, his mouth open and biting the skin of his shoulder. At the first touch of teeth on his skin, Leander let out a surprised, broken moan of surprise and came, his orgasm ripping out of him as ruthlessly as he was being taken.

Kaldir’s thrusts became erratic as he angled them deeper, harder, _gods so hard_ , that Leander knew he would be bruised for days afterwards at the very least, and he could do nothing but hold on and take the punishing rhythm. He made a gasping cry that only seemed to spur Kaldir on to new heights, until Leander was barely conscious, limp and dazed on the altar, when Kaldir finally gave a moan that echoed around the temple and shoved in as far as he could go. He came forcefully, moving his hips in minute rolling thrusts as he rode out his orgasm until all his energy was spent.

After what felt like an eternity, Kaldir flopped forward onto Leander, seeming to not mind the mess between them as his breathing slowed to its normal rhythm. Under him, Leander remained still and unresponsive, trying not to shift uncomfortably and dislodge the now relaxed man above him. 

It was done. 

His fate was now sealed. He was officially his brother’s consort and slave. Kaldir’s private possession and nothing but an act of the Sun God could break what they had done in the temple.

Kaldir must have been thinking the same thing as he pulled away just enough to look down on Leander, stroking the collar around his neck, a gesture that would become as normal as breathing was. “We are as one now, you and I. As it has been. As it will always be. You may not understand that now, or even like the prospect. But you will.”

He sounded so sure of himself. So confident that he was right in this instance. 

And, Gods forgive him, Leander believed him.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The planned chapter ran to over 10,000 words, so I have had to split it into two. Sorry for those who were hoping for a conclusion this weekend. But you won't have to wait long, i just need to do some edits and the final chapter will be up next Sunday. 
> 
> Also please note: there is violence in this chapter, so be warned. I have updated the tags accordingly but please just skip over the middle part if it squicks you out.
> 
> Otherwise, enjoy!

"I have to hand it to you," Leander said in a low tone of voice so that only Kaldir could hear what he said. "You sure know how to make a lasting impression."

“Isn’t that what Court fanfare is all about?” Kaldir asked with a small up tilt of his lips. “While you did everything in your power to get out of all aspects of Court life when we were children, I did my due diligence and attended them, treating it as lessons for the future. I watched, I listened, and I learned a great deal.”

Leander glanced at him with a wary frown. “What could you possibly have learned from banquets and the pandering of the elite?”

Kaldir’s smile broadened. “I learnt that money is power and the more you flaunt it for others to see and be in awe of it, the more they are willing to overlook certain eccentricities in their leaders.”

Leander’s confusion soon turned to one of bemusement. “Is that what we are calling this? An eccentricity?”

Kaldir shrugged one shoulder easily. “I would call it what it is. You are my consort, I am yours. They can either accept it for what it is and enjoy the rewards of my favour, or they can reject it and find out what it means to be the enemy of the King of Nasria.”

Leander coloured and looked away, unable to find the words to reply to such confident conviction. Leander envied Kaldir that self assurance, that confidence that what he was doing was not only right but the only path to take. For a long time now, Leander couldn’t take a step without the fear of falling. 

They were in the great hall of the castle, ready to receive every prominent House that made up Nasria’s Court. The hall itself was completely changed from when he had last been there. Before, it had the throne on a dais at the very end with long wooden stretches of tables with benches that took up most of the floor. On the walls were tapestries for hunting scenes that their father had loved so much, the colour starting to fade from age.

Now, the wooden tables were replaced with gleaming golden banquet tables and high back chairs for his guests. They were covered with crisp white cloths, real silver and porcelain cutlery and crystal glass goblets. Plates upon plates of the most exquisite food lovingly cooked by the army of cooks in the kitchens. 

The old tapestries were gone in favour of new ones that depicted all the House’s coat of arms in stunning colours of thread, each one painstakingly detailed by what could only be dozens of weavers working on it together. Above them all were the coat of arms of the Belfords and the Tye, Kaldir’s and Leander’s respectively. The message could not be any clearer for anyone who looked upon it. All Houses were unified together under their consortship. 

Their father had always made a point of broadcasting his own achievements and keeping the Houses separate from the glory of Nasria itself. He was aware, bordering on paranoid, that giving the Houses too much distinction could make them feel self important enough to cause trouble for the crown. 

Clearly, Kaldir didn’t think the same way. While he had separated his authority over them, he was acknowledging the Houses contribution to the building and prosperity of the country. For the elite and their constant jockeying for power, this must have been a powerful taste of what Kladir’s Kingship could do for them and their families. 

As the Houses were announced by the Court speaker and they filed in, their awed murmurs filled the hall like a constant hum of static. Leander watched them all in their brightly coloured finery, heads high and eyes bright with their anticipation of the night ahead. He stood to the side of the throne, one step down, still wearing the robes from the temple. As always, he had the collar at his throat. 

He had, to be perfectly honest, been expecting Kaldir to put Leander on his knees at Kaldir’s feet as he sat on the throne. Other Kings had done so with their slaves in the past. But he didn’t need to be so overtly proprietary as all that, not with the collar and Leander’s subtle body language.

And if the court was good at anything, it was how gossip spread like wildfire among them. Judging by the open staring, they already knew of Leander’s new status among them, and that of the Sun Priest's new change of Head Priest. How he had blessed them and their union. 

It took all of Leander’s courage not to bow his head out of his sheer embarrassment. 

Eiran, who had been standing to the side with the rest of Kaldir’s guard, stepped forward and with a booming voice, said, “Kaldir, House of Belford, King of Nasria!”

“King of Nasria,” the Court repeated promptly as they all dropped to a knee, heads bowed in deference to their new King. 

Kaldir’s eyes swept over them all, gaze intent and watchful. Leander knew without having to ask that he was looking for any that were hesitant to take the knee, anyone who didn’t bow their heads correctly. 

When he was satisfied, he finally stood up from his seat on the throne and spread his arms out in a welcoming gesture. “I bid you welcome to my court, every House and its representative is an honoured guest at my table.”

With the ritual of welcome over, the festivities could finally begin. Kaldir remained on his throne with Leander standing by his side. The Houses sat to their feast, the alcohol overflowing their cups by attentive servants, voices loud and raucous in the great hall as they made merry.

Neither of them spoke, simply observing the guests as they mingled with each other. While the scene was one of great joy of the occasion, Leander was well aware of the undercurrent of tension in the room. Kaldir had been right when he said that Leander had done everything he could to get out of court occasions, but he had learnt one critical thing about the people within it.

They treated change like it was the enemy.

And Leander was the symbol of change. Whether that change was for good or bad, Leander wasn’t sure if it really mattered to any of them. He caught the glances thrown his way, the heads bent together in earnest conversation. He couldn’t gauge what any of them were thinking, they hid their true feelings behind masks of civility and politeness. That terribly bland expression that meant absolutely nothing to the observer. 

But there was one set of eyes that was fixated on Leander and made no show of looking away. Leander turned to them and felt his heart stutter in his chest. The eyes belonged to Erick, his mother’s brother, now the head of the House of Tye. He was several years older than Danya, with silver threaded in his hair and wrinkles set around his eyes and mouth. Despite this, age had not robbed him of his warrior’s physique, his noble bearing.

Erick watched Leander with a look of cold contempt, his disapproval clear for anyone to see. When their eye connected, Erick held it for a few moments that felt like an eternity, before he broke it and turned his face away to speak to his neighbour.

The deliberate brush off from his Uncle was painful but not all that surprising. Leander had brought shame on his House being made a slave and it was no coincidence that his mother was not present in the hall. While the Consorts of the King were retired from court life after they had given birth to a healthy son, they were allowed back to court after their son survived, or wiped out, during the ritual of succession. 

He had known deep down that he wouldn’t be allowed to see her, but his Uncle’s derision made plain he had been the one to enforce the estrangement. Or at least, he hoped. Leander couldn’t bear the thought that Danya hadn’t wanted to see her son sink so low in the ranks. 

Leander watched his Uncle for a while before turning his attention back to Kaldir, wandering if he had caught the interaction. His brother didn’t appear to look perturbed, but that didn’t mean a whole lot. Kaldir was a master at keeping his thoughts to himself.

Leander felt the growing feeling of foreboding wash over him. He could only pray that his Uncle would keep his feelings to himself and not do anything stupid in the name of the House of Tye.

* * *

Their first night back, Leander was to discover that his chambers were no longer his anymore. It shouldn’t have come as any great surprise, slaves don’t often get a whole room to themselves, particularly ones that had once housed a Prince of the blood. But as a Consort, women were permitted their own room when the King wasn’t to share his bed with them. 

“It is not needed,” Kaldir said dismissively when Leander had asked about his sleeping arrangements. “We are to share the King’s suite.”

Leander blinked at that. Another rule of the Court that Kaldir had effortlessly broke with his regime change. Consorts were to be invited to the suite to share of a night, never to stay as its second occupant. 

“You mean we are to share a bed every night?” Leander asked, perturbed as they began the trek to said royal suite. Then an awful thought occurred to him. “Or am I going to be sleeping on the floor like the bed slaves are want to do?”

Kaldir gave him a look that made Leander feel embarrassed to ask such a question. “We are to share a bed, Leander. Like Consorts. Like faithful Consorts of the Eastern Kingdoms do.”

“I-I did not know that,” he said softly and remained silent until they reached the suite.

Leander had never been in the King’s suite, no Prince had until they were the ones to take on the crown of the King. It was the only place the King can be by themselves, away from the weight of the crown and the troubles of the Court. Only the Consorts and the King’s Captain of the guard are permitted to enter, and even then with express permission.

But here he was now, in a room that was as large as it was sumptuous. It had high ceilings with a chandelier that was already lit with a dozen candles. A large four poster bed with deep green hangings was the focal point to the left and beautiful cushioned seats around a low table were to the right. There was a stone fireplace with chopped wood in a basket next to it, ready to be lit at a moment's notice, and a door that was closed to the side of it. Leander assumed that must lead to the dressing room and bathing room.

It looked comfortable. Leander, if he had ever pictured the inside of his room, had not expected that. There were some things that were familiar to him, though. Kaldir’s chess board was set up on the table, a painting of Nasria’s beautiful harbour hanging up on the wall, his black armour on the bust in the corner.

Noticing these details also meant that he noticed his own things in amongst it too. There were Leander’s unfinished drawings in his old sketchbook now next to the chess board, his paints neatly in their casings. There was his enamel hairbrush and toiletries on the bedside table and the blanket he had on his bed was now draped across the bottom of the bed here, corners folded neatly like it had always been there.

“You had my stuff brought here,” Leander breathed. “I thought it would have been long gone by now.”

“I kept them,” Kaldir said as he moved into the room after Leander, taking it in for himself. “I wanted you to feel like this space was yours too. That you belonged here.”

Leander breathed in sharply. That honest comment hit harder than he thought it would. He didn’t turn around to face Kaldir, not trusting to keep the emotions he felt off of his face. He felt the warmth of Kaldir standing close behind him, hand reaching out to stroke down his arm. He pressed his lips against Leander’s temple.

“You must be tired. Come to bed with me,” Kaldir said against the sensitive skin and Leander shivered. 

He went with little prompting. 

* * *

They didn’t have to wait long for someone to make the first move. 

Two weeks later and Leander was in the library one evening, sitting at one of the tables and reading by candlelight. Since being back in the city, Leander hadn’t had a lot to do to fill his time. As both a slave and Consort to the King, he was not permitted to be a part of the running of the Kingdom, or engage in Court politics and intrigues. Like the women of the elite, he was supposed to look pretty, act demurely, and hope that boredom doesn’t kill him in the long run.

He was, at the very least, allowed the full run of the extensive library the castle had. Generations of work had gone into the collection and, though Leander hadn’t been much of a reader growing up, he took to it with more zeal than ever before. 

While Kaldir was caught up in one of the many meetings he had with his advisors about state affairs and Leander, growing restless from being cooped up with nothing to do in their shared chambers, had made the trip to the library in search of something interesting to read. 

And found something interesting he had. A great big dusty tome of Nasria’s history, or more specifically, the history of the Kings of Nasria. As he opened the book, the spine cracked with disuse and the waft of old parchment paper was released in the air along with the swirls of dust that irritated Leander’s nose enough to cause him to sneeze. 

History, particularly political history, was hardly a subject of interest for Leander, or perhaps that had more to do with the Masters who used to hammer home how prestigious his line was or how brutal the successions were. But now Leander had an area of interest with the line of Kings and that was King Ephram II

Kind Ephram II and his Consort brother.

Leander very much doubted that any mention of it would be in a history book in the castle library for just anyone to find, and Kaldir had said to Septus during their ill fated meeting that he had to dig deep in the scrolls at the Sun temple to find it, but Leander couldn’t help himself as he flipped through the pages and alighted on the entry of Ephram II and his reign. 

Eyes flicking over the now much faded words, Leander alighted upon ‘... _Ephram begot three sons by his consorts belonging to the great and noble houses of Randall, Leot and Ceto, though it is much rumoured that he spends time more often than not with his male whore…’_

Leander blinked down at the page, feeling a hard lump form in his throat as he read over the passage again. Was the male whore supposed to be his brother? Kaldir had referred to him as Ephram’s Consort, yet here he was to the passages of time as nothing more than a whore. 

He sat back in his chair, mulling over it and wandering why the thought made him bite back tears. History was always written by the victors, or by the next generation that wanted to frame it in such a way as to benefit them down the line. A life, the life of a King no less, scrubbed away to nothing but a footnote in a book, that footnote to form two words that set Leander’s teeth on edge. 

When Kaldir got back, he would ask him to see the scroll, to see the word ‘Consort’ in black and white, to see with his own eyes if he could gleam any truth from it. Were they happy together? Did Ephram’s brother consent to such a thing or was he a glorified slave too?

His musings were interrupted by a voice behind him, “It is a rare sight indeed to see the dog without the master.”

Leander jumped, not noticing someone had entered the room, and he turned to find his Uncle leaning against one of the bookshelves, arms crossed and staring at him. The look was not a friendly one, there was a sneering hatred in his eyes that turned him ugly and it was difficult to retain eye contact when Leander was faced with such emotion directed towards him.

“Uncle Erick,” Leander said as he closed the book with a resounding thump, feeling guilty as if he had been caught looking at something he shouldn’t have. “My apologies, I didn't know you were in attendance at the castle.”

That hatred sharpened, lips pinched, and he straightened from his slouch against the bookshelves. “You have no right to call me Uncle, no claim on our bloodline. Slaves have no claim on anything at all.”

The words were like barbs embedding in his skin and Leander couldn’t help but flinch from them. “Please Uncle, I-”

Erick’s breath hissed through his clenched teeth and he quickly advanced into the room, long legs eating up the distance between them as he went straight for Leander. Leander only had enough time to stand up abruptly from his seat, knocking the chair to the floor, before Erick was upon him. 

His hands were planted against Leander’s chest and he gave a powerful shove and Leander was violently pitched backwards. He landed on the table on his back, a pained grunt escaping his mouth as his feet scrambled for purchase on the floor, but unable to get any traction. Erick loomed over him, hands at his throat just above the collar and _squeezing._

Leander choked, hands reaching up to prise the hands from his throat, nails digging into his Uncle’s flesh in the process, but it was no use. The man was too strong for him, his grip like iron and gradually getting tighter and tighter until it restricted Leander’s airway completely.

“You should have killed yourself when you had your chance,” Erick snarled in his face. “When your death would have meant something. But now I have to do it for you, I have to be the one to wipe the stain you brought upon my family’s honour.”

Leander opened his mouth to reply, but he was unable to make a sound. Black dots danced before his eyes, his sight growing dimmer at the edges as his oxygen began to run out. He kicked out at his Uncle, trying to push him away, but the blows were ineffectual. Erick merely tightened his hold again, lifting his back of the wooden surface, only to drive Leander back against the table beneath him again and again and again.

_I’m going to die here. My own family is going to murder me like I meant nothing to them._

The realisation sent adrenaline coursing through his veins and his arm flailed about on the table, searching for anything that he could use to strike at Erick, to get him to relinquish the man’s death grip on him so he could breathe again. His wild motions knocked the book off the table, sending it crashing to the floor, before he finally alighted on the heavy metal candlestick holder he had been using to read by. 

He nearly knocked that off the table in his haste too, the candle sent toppling, the flame sputtering out before it hit the carpeted floor, candle wax spilling into the fibres. His desperation caused him to right his clumsiness with more dexterity than he ever had in his life. He clutched at the thing with a white knuckled grip, getting a good hold on the heavy object and, with a wheeze of effort, he used all of his remaining strength to strike his Uncle in the face with it. 

The reaction was instantaneous. With a sickening crack as the object made contact with his Uncle’s skull, the hands around his throat suddenly loosened and let go as Erick wheeled back from him. Leander gasped in a noisy gulp of air, oxygen rushing into his deprived lungs and filling them. The feeling was almost euphoric. He rolled onto his side, using his shoulder and free arm to lever himself up into a sitting position on the table and he stared at his Uncle.

A river of blood gushed from the impact sight on his left temple, coating the side of his face and the collar of his shirt with red. He was left blinking owlishly, like he couldn’t figure what had just happened, before quivering fingers reached up to touch his face. He pulled them away and stared uncomprehendingly at the blood on his fingers.

Leander didn’t waste anymore time than he already had in his gawping. Still gasping in deep lungful of air, he scrambled off of the table and swung wildly for his Uncle again. The man didn’t even raise a hand in order to ward his nephew off. Leander made another devastating blow to Erick’s cheek, the force of it sending his head snapping to the side before he sprawled to the floor in a heap of twitching limbs.

Leander was overcome with his terror, his pent up rage and anxiety that he had felt in all the months since his father had died, and let it lose on his pitiful Uncle. He stood above the man and, with a scream that was more animal than human, he reigned blows down on the man he had once called his family.

It was like he was possessed, he couldn’t stop himself from hitting Erick over and over again. The overwhelming need to make sure he couldn’t hurt Leander forced him on until his arms were so tired that he could barely raise the candlestick above arm’s length. His panted breath was drowned out by the blood rushing in his ears.

When all of his adrenaline had dissipated and his muscles were screaming at him, he finally stopped. Dropping the candlestick to the floor with a loud dull thud, he staggered back against the table and had to sit on it as his legs threatened to give out from beneath him. 

Erick was not moving anymore. 

It was at the point that he finally became aware of his surroundings and of the two figures standing in the doorway of the library, motionless. One of them was Eiran, his sword drawn and staring in shocked speechlessness at the scene before him. The other, of course, was Kaldir, who watched Leander with an expression on his face that took Leander a couple seconds to work out what it was.

It was fierce pride.

Through the pained muscles of his throat, Leander finally gasped out, “He was going to kill me.”

A poor excuse for the violence he had just inflicted on a member of a House. Not just a member, but the Head of a House. There were terrible repercussions for assault on a member of the Court and for a slave to do such a thing? Leander only knew one outcome for something like that and that was execution.

“Gods,” Eiran breathed, sliding his word back into the scabbard hanging at his waist. He still couldn’t tear his eyes away from Erick’s prone body. “What a bloody mess.”

“Is-” Leander's voice broke and he cleared his throat to try again. “Is he dead?”

Eiran moved forward and knelt over Erick, his hand going to the pulse point in his neck. After a few seconds, he pulled away. “He’s most definitely dead.”

Leander made a soft sound of denial at that and turned his face away, eyes closing against his actions. Gods, he just had a melt down and murdered his own Uncle. What was going to become of him now?

A hand gripped his and Leander opened his eyes to see Kaldir in front of him. When their eyes met, he squeezed it in reassurance. “Erick tried to kill a King’s consort. That’s an offence punishable by the sentence of death. As far as I or the Court are concerned, he got exactly what he deserved.”

“Well done, Consort,” Eiran said as he straightened back up, giving Leander a nod of approval. “I had no idea you had it in you. Most impressive.”

And by the look of him, he meant every word he spoke. He appraised Leander with a newfound respect that he hadn’t done before. Obviously, Leander thought sardonically, there was nothing quite like saving one’s skin by bashing someone to death with a blunt object to get the approval of a soldier. 

Why didn’t he think to do that in the first place?

“Are you hurt?” Kaldir asked, eyes roving over him for any signs of injury.

Leander shook his head. “No, well, my throat hurts from him trying to strangle me to death but nothing more than that-”

Leander caught sight of himself when he tried to wave Kaldir’s concerns away. His hand was coated in blood. The arms of his shirt were liberally flecked with the blood splatter. Leander blanched. “Oh Gods.” He whimpered. 

“I think a long soak in the bath is in order,” Kaldir said promptly as he drew Leander up from his seat on the table. “And for the servants to burn your clothes. Eiran, if you could get someone to clear up this mess, I would appreciate it.”

“What do you want me to do with the body?” Eiran asked.

Kaldir ushered Leander out of the library and Leander went willingly. Numbly. Kaldir said over his shoulder, “What we always do with filthy assassins. Cut their head off and display it on the castle ramparts for people to look upon them.”

Leander heard Eiran sigh softly as they left the room. “I doubt anyone will recognise him after the Consort was through with caving his face in.”

The servants were immediately put to work heating up water for Leander’s bath and Leander thought it did them credit that none of them even flinched at the sight of him in all of his blood spattered glory. 

Or perhaps it was telling just how cruel Court life could be.

Once the large bath was filled with steaming water, Leander had expected Kaldir to leave him to it. Instead, he helped Leander strip the soiled clothes off of himself, his hands paying gentle attention to Leander’s neck. Judging by the way Kaldir’s eyes lingered on the area, Leander’s skin must be blossoming with deep purple marks already. 

He helped Leander into the tub and, when Leander was settled, he kneeled down next to the tub. He began to wash Leander’s body with soap and a soft cloth, his touches gentle yet pragmatic. Leander allowed it without protest, each one of his muscles relaxing under the comforting swipes across his skin. 

“This is partly my fault,” Kaldir murmured as he continued to wash Leander down, the water in the bath slowly turning a light pink from the blood. “I knew your Uncle was extremely angry with the turn of events, he had made his feelings quite clear to the Court and to me in private. What I didn't know was that he would turn his anger on you and not me. I had anticipated a public challenge to me from him before the rest of the Court.”

Leander gave a half hearted shrug, his eyes on the water surrounding him. “It surprised me too, though in hindsight it probably shouldn’t. My mother always said he was a proud man. Arrogant to the point of pig headedness. His actions tonight were within the bounds of his known behaviour, but I never would have thought he would resort to trying to kill me. In the castle, no less.” He stopped and shook his head, finding it difficult to truly accept what had happened mere minutes before.

“That should have occurred to me too. I should have had you under guard from the moment we had entered the city.” Kaldir abandoned the cloth and began pouring the water over Leander’s shoulders to wash away the bubbles. To wash away his error. “Though, judging by tonight’s exciting events, you clearly can take care of yourself.” His tone turned light at his next words. “It would seem the Court was entirely wrong about your chances during the succession. Perhaps you would have been King after all.”

Leander risked a quick glance at Kaldir’s face, afraid that he was being serious and that he really thought Leander posed any danger to him, but instead he found fond amusement in those eyes. “You and I both know you could squish me without any trouble before I got in hitting distance to you.”

Kaldir shrugged. “Unless, of course, there is a candlestick holder nearby. Then you are deadly to be around.”

For the first time since it happened, Leander cracked a small trembling smile. “That’s true. I should be feared.”

“And it will be known,” Kaldir assured him, all humour gone. “That your life is of great importance to me, and any attempt on it would mean the forfeit of theirs and the loss of their estates for their future generations. That anyone who attempted it would find you a poor victim in their cause to further their own greed indeed.”

Kaldir stood up from his crouch by the bath and began to strip out of his own clothes. Leander’s thoughts were momentarily derailed by the sudden display of warm flesh and flexing muscle as he pulled the shirt over his head. The breeches soon followed as it was discarded unceremoniously on the floor and Kaldir began to get into the tub with Leander.

“Wait,” Leander said, placing his hand against Kaldir’s chest to halt his movements. “The water, it’s bloody-”

“I don’t care,” Kaldir said, situating himself so that he laid flat in the bath and he pulled Leander against him so that he was comfortably wedged against his side, Leander’s head resting on his chest. He carded his hand through Leander’s damp hair, careful not to pull on any tangles his fingers found. “Let us rest together for a while.”

And they did. Leander closed his eyes, closed himself off from everything that had happened, what would happen in the near future, and allowed himself to be comforted in that moment. 

For a time, it was only Leander and Kaldir and the hot water surrounding them. Peaceful. Quiet.

Together

* * *

Excerpt from scroll number twelve, shelf forty two, east wing of the Sun temple, belonging to the chronicle of Ephram II’s reign, depicted faithfully by chronicler Yorrick Elsen:

_… Ephram, second of his name, did raise his enemy brother from a perilous death at his own hands, to become his first and favoured consort above all others. His brother remained ever faithful when all female consorts had done their duty by the King and had long since retired from the King’s presence and Court. To love and to cherish each other, according to Kova’s will and to sit at the King’s side as his partner until death parted them in their dotages..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys. Guys guys guys guys guys. Guys. I actually wrote a cluedo game murder into my story. "It was Colonel Mustard in the study with the candlestick." Whee!


End file.
